


Notes

by Phantom_art



Category: Political RPF - Russian 21st c.
Genre: Anal Sex, Friendship, Gay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-02-22 10:57:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 63,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22581727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantom_art/pseuds/Phantom_art
Summary: Dmitry's bored, the notes to vladimir help.
Relationships: Dmitry Medvedev/Vladimir Putin
Comments: 44
Kudos: 36





	1. Boring

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a series of a few chapters, in time it will all be fixed.  
> <3

The meeting was boring, not that it was interesting or anything like that but it certainly wasn't something Dmitry expected. Being prime minister was a difficult job, a great handful of power lay in your hands and being prime minister of the Russian federation was completely different, the great nation, the whole world, the immense country full of mystery and strength; the former Soviet union, power in all its splendor.   
Yet Dmitry felt inferior, of course he didn't mind, the cameras sometimes focused on him and that was enough for him.  
When he looked at Vladimir in his seat, his emotionless gaze focused on the man who was speaking.   
He could not hold his thoughts for that man.  
¿Since when had he started having emotions towards his boss?, he couldn't say because he didn't know the answer.   
She kept silent, playing with her fingers, interlocking them and watching him. With the sound of distorted words in the distance.

He wasn't focused, he couldn't be, not when the sound of the clock overhead was haunting him. Slowly, persistently, and with a great sound that could reverberate throughout the room except for the voice of the man who, aware that his words had no effect on the dull people present, insisted on following his monologue.

Dmitry looked back at Vladimir, observing his facial details. His blue eyes that overflowed from his face characterizing him; his thin, slightly tightened lips; his white skin that could rival Moscow's snow.

He turned his gaze to his empty notes next to his blue pen, took it, noting the feel of the wood surface. An idea crossed his mind, risky if you will. He wrote, looking at Vladimir, who seemed not to pay any particular attention to it. Having already written, he folded it into two parts, leaving it as a less than perfect square but enough to be one. He brought it closer to Vladimir, ignoring the man's direction.

He was nervous, his heart was pounding, in a way that could be compared to the story of Edgar Allan Poe, he felt that others could hear him.   
His heart stopped as the note slipped through his hand, he looked up in surprise, turning in the direction of the man. He noticed how he ignored his presence, absorbed by his being.  
He unfolded his note, being cautious at all times, looking at the monologue every five seconds. He looked at his own handwriting, narrow and somewhat Hispanic.

"This is boring, don't you think?"

He had written that without thinking, perhaps expecting some annoying look or challenge from him.

"I agree, it's a little boring."

Dmitry smiled, turning the note over. He looked in all directions to see if anyone noticed his strange behavior. Thank heaven everyone was still devoted to the talking man.  
He wrote again, with a little more confidence.  
No bending this time, just sliding along the smooth wood until it reached its intended recipient.

He couldn't hide his happiness.

Watch vladimir move his hands, slow, delicate but with every move determined and strong.   
He remembered what he had said, laughing a little.

"I think there's something in his teeth."

His chest felt some sensations like needles hitting him, the slightest smile forming on his thin lips. At least he was laughing.   
He wrote, looking at the monologue.   
The note slipped into his hands. Their glances never crossed.  
He waited a moment, happy at the man's silence.   
His happiness was short-lived as he began another national security monologue.  
He looked at the note, smiling inside himself.

"I guess he didn't have time, although I could say he's a vegetable."

Dmitry nodded.  
Lavrov usually didn't talk much, but apparently he felt quite comfortable talking without stopping.   
He took in his stomach, listening to the sound of hunger proclaiming itself over his body. He had not eaten a good breakfast, the urgency of the meeting was quick; I would even say that he ran through the Kremlin.

Apparently, no one in the room had eaten as much breakfast as he had. He looked at Vladimir, thinking of some idea, he could invite him to lunch, as friends of course, it was not necessary to think of anything else. 

He wrote, this time nervous about the answer, he felt like a schoolgirl inviting a boy on a date. He complained in his mind when the note didn't reach his handwriting; he tore off another piece, writing this time in a better mood. She slipped it in again, not wanting to know the answer.   
She closed her eyes for a moment, it had been a bad idea, she shouldn't have written that.

"Would you like to go to lunch later?"

He thought about it, he hadn't chosen the best words, of course not, no words were good at that moment, Vladimir could think about his dubious heterosexuality. He put his hand on his forehead, he wanted to hit himself, he wanted to leave.  
He felt the blade in his hand, which came with him, the answer.   
He didn't want to read, he didn't want to know the answer.  
Still, he took the note, nervous about the possible answer.

"I know a restaurant, whiter rabbit, they serve an excellent pelmeni."

He hid his astonishment, he wanted to shout, he had said yes, not directly but it was a yes anyway. He could feel his old hormones vibrating with joy, he felt young, like a teenager who with only a "yes" can dream, scream, laugh. 

He smiled when the men got up, saying goodbye and then leaving.

He could not move, the emotion did not allow it.


	2. Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There won't be a recap, it's 1:33 in the morning, I don't think.

"We'll go get that pelmeni?.

Vladimir's voice took him out of his excitement, bringing him down from the cloud of emotions and thoughts.  
Toze, getting up from his seat to nod.

"Of course, I'm hungry.

In the vehicle, no one was looking at each other, each looking at a different window. Dmitry was nervous, banging his leg against the persistent door.

"so, ilya has won the medal.

He got confused, analyzing for a moment.

"ilya?. Ah, yes. He's done it, his school has congratulated him." 

He says, looking at him.   
He was nervous.

" I think it's excellent," Vladimir said, "but sport is a fundamental pillar, a characteristic of a strong nation is its healthy people.

Dmitry nodded, agreeing with his comment.  
Silence reigned again, uncomfortable with the situation Dmitry moved, looking for a better position.

" svetlana said," he began, looking out the window, "that he wants a vacation.

" so that's why you decided to invite me, you need a vacation.  
Dmitry hastily denied, he had said it in a different way.

" For her, not for me," he says, opening the door when the engine stops.

They both went out, being welcomed by the owner, whiter rabbit was the best Russian restaurant, quite expensive, politicians and celebrities used to dine in that place, it was not special true to some famous people to eat some black caviar.   
They sat in private, each one facing the other, watching each other. 

" You know, me and Lyudmila started like this.

Dmitry shook his confused head.

" the weather, vacation." he started, taking a meal sheet. " he used to excuse himself, then we just didn't get to go on. 

" with svetlana we can fix this," he thanked the waiter, handing  
over a glass of Muscat, one of the best wines in russia, just for a while.

Vladimir nodded, ordering a pelmeni. He copied his order, being watched by the man.  
They resumed their conversation when the waiter withdrew.

" I'm sorry," said Dmitry, drinking his wine, "but Svetlana is just tired.

" of covering herself in luxury," she asked, looking down her short eyelashes. 

" from my work. " He put the glass down. It's not something that bothers me personally but it does.

" Dmitry.

The named man felt his body shudder.

" Could you stop the formality?." He asked, looking at the floor. " We are friends after all.

" You have started the formality" . He unbuttoned his sack, pulling it out of his body.

Dmitry hit himself mentally again, they were friends, I should remember.

" So... Volodya," he said, coming closer with his chair, "you think I should separate myself from Sveta.

" I think," he began, drinking from his glass for the first time, "that if you are already married you should wait.

Dmitry nodded quietly as the waiter came in the door, the tray of dishes in his hand smelling wonderful.  
They were grateful, taking the utensils ready to eat. The door closed, leaving both men in solitude.

" However," she left her fork on the left side of the plate, "I don't want you to find her lying down later on.

Dmitry was left pensive, svetlana would not be able to deceive him.

" I doubt it." Dmitry put his fork down." It's not something she can do. 

He looked at his plate, the hunger was gone. Svetlana had become something fundamental in his life, he had loved her, but now he didn't feel the same, it wouldn't be strange to see her cheating on him.  
vladimir looked at his watch.

" I suppose not. Volodya." called, curious." Why did you get my note?

He was silent, making vladimir smile mysteriously. You might say it's like the work of Leonardo da Vinci. Without knowing his intentions, full of nuances from which that smile is filled. 

" because - he paused, standing up." like you dima, he was bored. I'm the president but I'm also usually bored. 

Dmitry stood up, following her attitude.

They left the bill in the Kremlin's name, the house would pay for their food. He walked to the vehicle. Most likely, Vladimir was bored. There was nothing else to do.

" Dima." Vladimir closed the door behind them." I'd like to invite you into my home, just to talk.

Dmitry felt his heart beat, he was nervous. 

" I'd love to." He put his head down on the seat. "After all, I'm alone. Ilya has gone to sleep with his friend.

\- Friend?

" Yes." He said, grasping the situation." The friend has a girlfriend, of course.

" You should stop him from leaving.

Dmitry kept quiet, he shouldn't have said anything about Ilya.

" He's just a friend, Ilya isn't gay.

" But he will be if you keep this up." He looked at him for a moment, analyzing him. "He's still a child, he doesn't know anything about life and he's there. 

He just nodded his head, putting the discussion aside. He did not want to talk, sometimes Vladimir's posture bothered him, but still he could not stop resisting him, his gaze. 

" You know dima..

Dmitry didn't listen, he didn't want to.  
His thoughts were elsewhere. Rather, in his face, he could not forget everything around him to look at that face. 

" Dima..."called.

Again.  
He didn't listen.

He felt his hands on his forehead, pulling him out of his crush. He could feel Vladimir's face near him, looking at him so hard he could be a statue.  
His cheeks turned red, the shame present making it clear that he had been daydreaming. 

" I'm sorry," he said, not taking his hand off his forehead.

" You have a fever," he came closer, tapping his knees.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the closeness or the possibility of escape when the vehicle stopped at the doors of his apartment. He grabbed his coat with both hands, bringing it as close to his lips as possible, feeling his cold, thin lips touching them, not moving. He parted, and left quickly without looking back, fleeing the scene in desperation.   
When he entered his apartment he threw himself on the couch, scared.   
It was his break after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading


	3. Office

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm not stopping at this.

I was going back to the Kremlin, which was the most horrible thing. It had been a terrible idea, a horrific idea. He was fired.  
There was no doubt about it, you should start packing up your office things to leave the Kremlin.

I didn't want to see Vladimir, the alcohol had left his body, he cursed the glass he drank. He looked at the clock, it was half an hour to go back. He didn't want to, he didn't want to go back.   
Still, Vladimir's lips followed his mind, they had been as he expected. Sweet, soft, and above all delicious.  
He smiled, it had been worth it.   
The phone rang, leaving him in a slight trance. He picked it up, looking; an unknown number he could read. He answered by closing his eyes, annoyed that he had been interrupted in his fantasy.

"Yes?"  
"Come, my office, don't be long."

He cursed underneath, feeling the fear cross his face. It would have been better not to answer.

"I... volodya."  
"We'll talk when I see you in my office, see you later."

He got up, he was sure his farewell letter would be on Vladimir's mahogany table.

When he arrived, he prayed. In his mind, all the prayers he knew were being processed at that moment. He stood at Vladimir's door, looking at the dark wood in front of him, his hands began to sweat, he bit his lip, opening the door.

There he was, without his coat. Sitting in his authoritarian posture, intimidating him without doing anything else, only his presence could silence someone, and that someone was him.  
He came closer, closing the door behind him.

" I," he began, slowly, "about what happened I wanted to say.

" sitting down.

He sat down, obeying without refuting, just looking at him with guilt. 

" dima, I would say that the word disappointment is short for what I feel.

He was silent, looking at his own legs, wanting to run.

" In spite of this, I would like him to look at me.

His gaze rose, hesitant, looking into his eyes.

" I'm sorry." He said it with effort, feeling the fear." I didn't mean to, I just...

" No, don't be." He moved his face closer, keeping his posture. "If you had the chance, what would you do now?

Dmitry was silent, ¿should I say so? 

" I..." Pause, look at the opposite lips." I...

" You? Come on, talk.

He breathed, taking in enough air to talk.

" I'd kiss you, I really would.

He was surprised. No, to say that he was surprised was short, he wanted to die or he was in heaven, he would not know it but, the lips of vladimir on him tormented him, delighted him.   
He corresponded to the kiss, feeling the thick hand of the man touching his throat, with his thumb touching his apple, caressing it. 

He could feel vladimir squeezing his throat, with his strong fingers blocking the air. He opened his mouth, in need of oxygen. He moaned as the opposite tongue entered his mouth, exploring his mouth and playing with his tongue.   
He felt that he would faint, the adrenaline hitting his body, wanting to free himself. 

He gasped as his fingers pulled back from his throat.

" Are you satisfied?" he asked, without moving from his seat, "although I should say that you have enjoyed it.

Dmitry remained silent, offended at his words, he was not satisfied of course, now that he had tasted them he could not help but, ¿enjoy it?. That was different, by God, he almost fainted from lack of air. 

" I almost fainted," he said, agitated.

" I know." He kissed her cheek, reaching for her ear to speak. "I guess he crossed my personal boundary.

Having him so close had overwhelmed him, the chill soon came, furiously crossing his body.

" Doesn't it bother you?". Unbelieving, he looked at him.

" Why would something I have planned bother me?

Dmitry was silent.

He babbled, looking at Vladimir in surprise, speechless.  
Had it been his plan, he did not understand.

" How?." vladimir smiled, leaving his hue in different shades." it's easy, just say they need a lot of information and they'll do something extensive.

" How would you know?" he said, pointing at him," I didn't believe it.  
" I know how you are, when you get bored in meetings," he started, straightening his body. 

" But..  
Vladimir turned, taking his coat.

" There's no time, we have another meeting. The United States is at the center of the problem.

Dmitry remained in his seat, not believing a word. He got up after a few minutes, following the man. Had he planned this, but, ¿how?.

They entered the great room, being waited upon by the members of his council. He sat down, still in a daze.  
He grabbed his throat, it still hurt from the pressure exerted but he could bear it.

He could not concentrate, the situation in the office kept him as a constant reminder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading


	4. Fish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is interesting.I like it.

The invisible pressure on his lips remained, true to the fact that he had no intention of disappearing. He touched them, feeling the wetness in them. He wanted perhaps to scream, throw things, hide and not come out until he calmed down. Vladimir had kissed him, it was the best thing.

He looked at his notes, feeling the need to continue his useless interrogation.  
He took it, writing.

"So you planned it all."

He didn't need to fold it, he just handed it in, like last time.  
He waited, looking at the woman who was talking, seeing her in her light blue dress, it was quite old-fashioned as Svetlana would say.

He looked at her hand, seeing the note in place, in response. She turned it over, looking at Vladimir's thin, narrow handwriting.

"That's right, do you mind?"

He denied it, writing. 

"Not at all, it's just incredible."

He passed it on, carefully looking for any curious glances.

He was in dilemmas, so much was going on in his mind, so curious and strange. He couldn't believe that vladimir, being the most heterosexual sex object could be happy with kissing someone of his own sex, not that it bothered him of course but it was not normal, at least for him not.  
He got the note.

"Remember our meeting at nightfall, I don't want any delays."

He almost forgot.

"Of course not."

He returned it, feeling tired, sitting for a long time was exhausting, his body relaxed and he felt the need to sleep. Since he became prime minister, sleep was a secondary concern, he didn't sleep much.

He looked at his watch, seeing how the time had passed quickly.

He got up, taking his notes by shaking hands with some officials. Yanukovich used to squeeze his hand more, he didn't used to trust him but, the camera loved it and keeping up appearances was enough to not be in the press gallows. It was better to pretend for the time being.  
He approached Vladimir, shaking his determined hand, and they looked into each other's eyes, not understanding his boss' intentions. 

I should feed the fish, he thought, remembering the sea with those eyes staring at him. He broke away, retiring at once. He entered his office, being greeted by his happy fish swimming in his bowl. He opened his cupboard, taking out the food.  
With his phone he turned on the music, Linki Park was playing in his office.

At least he was ready to dance. 

" You know, I'm not against your taste in music." Dmitry jumped up, bringing a smile to Vladimir's face, "but I don't like it.

" Why not? It gives him a better focus.

Vladimir from behind, looking slowly at the man who, in his excitement, was feeding the fish. He approached his ear, breathing in the scent that was emanating.

" I don't remember feeling the troinói for a long time." he says, his nose up to his neck.

" It was expensive, I had to ask for it." he said, shaking as he touched her nose.

I had been waiting for this.

He saved his money for this, it had taken a long time to get his perfume. He had used it on a few occasions, he could count them with just one hand.  
He shivered again as Vladimir approached his body, feeling his groin hitting his buttocks. 

" Don't worry, Dima," he kissed her neck for a moment, "we won't do anything for now.

Dmitry closed his eyes, enjoying himself. 

" Although, it seems" he kissed her neck again, biting this time."You've been waiting a long time for this, I can guess.

He denied, biting her lips. 

" No?" he asked, planting more kisses." Look at you, I can see you shaking just from kissing.

He squeezed the fish food container, feeling peaks of pleasure with each kiss planted on his neck. He sighed, closing his eyes as he enjoyed himself.

" I want your report on the Ukraine," he said, walking away to maintain his normal tone.

Dmitry opened his eyes, turning his body to look at the man, he was puzzled. His mind began to wander, remembering the report that rested

" He's at my desk," he said, approaching his desk." Why did you stop?

Vladimir's smile appeared, tilting his head.

" You mustn't get distracted from work.

So he left, with the report in his hand and a smile on his face.

He sat down, touching her neck. He was delighted with the sensations in his body, he could not feel the same with svetlana.  
Still, the affection he felt for her was great, perhaps like an older brother, but the love was not on his terms.

He could not work, the sensation in his crotch was present, and the discomfort was overwhelming.  
He touched himself, feeling the electricity that shook his body in a pleasant way. 

He gasped as the speed increased, pulling his limb out of his pants. He squeezed his penis, imagining Vladimir there beside him, touching his limb as he spoke with his cruel mouth, he was delighted. He could imagine the man coming down, touching his thighs. He needed more, he needed something else even though he didn't know it. He pulled his pants down to his calves, touching his thigh with his free hand; he masturbated with more need, increasing the speed.  
He needed more, I could see it, I could feel it.  
He opened his legs, bringing his fingers to his mouth.

He jumped when the door opened.

He took his fingers off, trying to cover his limb. His face blushed, looking at Vladimir's body behind the door, arms crossed as he approached.

" He couldn't resist, could he?." Vladimir circled around the desk." Look at you, you're desperate.

Dmitry's breath was heavy, he could not concentrate.  
His body was shaking with little spasms.

" I told you it's not time yet,'" he said, holding the opposite limb.

Dmitry hugged Vladimir, screaming at the touch, the sensation was different.

" You must be silent,." he said, waving his hand." you don't want to be seen like this, do you?

He moved his hips, increasing the contact. The pleasure increased, you could feel it on the edge as Vladimir pressed the tip, it was sensitive. 

He bit into the shoulder, squeezing the man's suit.

He continued with that movement, taking him to a pleasure he had never known, he embraced Vladimir more, feeling that the sperm coming out of his testicles stained the president's hand. 

" You are very sensitive, Dima," he said, straightening up." Since when do you not have sex?

He couldn't talk, he felt tired and satisfied. He looked at him, trying to express the answer with his eyes. 

" Have I worn you out?" he asked, bringing his dirty hand to Dmitry's face. "It's a shame, you haven't had sex in a long time.

He nodded, complaining when his own sperm touched his face.

" Licking.

He stuck out his tongue, licking his fingers along with the palm of his hand, which felt very erotic. The taste was pleasant, it was strange, but it was not unpleasant. 

" That's right." He started, taking his hand off." You're good at dima commands, that's what I like about you, you're loyal, like a dog. 

He took his handkerchief, wiping off the few pieces of Dmitry. He kissed her cheek, retiring this time to his office. 

He pulled up his pants, didn't want his secretary to come in and see this.

It wouldn't be good, of course not. Seeing him with his pants off, with Vladimir coming out of his office, he's most likely dead.

He smiled, stretching out his relaxed body. He could not work now, he was tired and relaxed, he should walk. 

He got up after a while, walking around his office, looking out the window and at his fish, swimming in his prison. Sometimes he got depressed when he saw his fish, they were in a prison and his soft-hearted instinct wanted to free them but no, then he looked at something else and went back to his activity. 

This was no different. 

He could feel the sun going down, while the light slowly hid leaving the darkness in charge of the world, hugged, complaining of the cold that sometimes invaded his office. It would not be bad, to be in Vladimir's arms. She laughed, like a schoolgirl who had just kissed her lover, she knew that Vladimir was not very expressive, she had never seen him kiss Lyudmila. 

Perhaps it was for privacy, but it was strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, everything is welcome. <3


	5. Wine and something else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I follow this

He smiled, taking his keys along with his phone and other belongings. He left, informing his secretary of his departure. He was nervous, should he be dressed for the occasion, a wine? He refused, as he was in his apartment; he could change clothes, take a bath, change into something more casual, with a light blue shirt to match his tight black pants. He applied his lotion, troinói. He was ready, he just had to wait.  
Sitting on the sofa he waited, playing with his fingers, interlacing them, watching them in detail. He was anxious, anything could happen and that was exciting.

Hours had passed, slow, tortuous. Dima felt hesitant about going.  
He heard his phone vibrating, along with Vladimir's number. He answered, smiling.

"Volodya."  
"Come, it's all ready."

He accepted, hanging up, the man used to be quite short on his calls. 

As he headed for his destination his heart was pounding, he felt the excitement in his veins. 

When he arrived, he left, feeling his legs weak in every movement. He was not sure, he usually visited Vladimir.  
Although this was different, I knew it would end differently. I knew that when I came back, I would do it with some discomfort in my lower parts.

He was greeted by the man, in his white shirt and black pants, with two buttons unbuttoned that made him look provocative.  
They greeted each other, shaking hands to save face, one would never know if any journalist was out. 

" So, Dima." said Vladimir, walking to the kitchen." Are you thinking of doing something?.

" Like what?" he asked, sitting on the long sofa.

" About you." He came back with two glasses along with a wine. "Look at you, you've come after all, that means you need something.

" I thought we could talk. "He received the glass, smiling." As friends.

" Friends?" he asked, sitting down next to her carefully. "After masturbating, I doubt we'll be friends.

" Don't say it like that!" He paused. "It sounds bad.

" Of course it sounds bad." He said, looking at him. "You thought it would sound different, that's what happened.

Dmitry was silent, looking at his glass.

" Don't feel bad," he filled both glasses, continuing. "It is not unusual to succumb to power.

" I have not succumbed to the power of Volodya," he said, drinking from it.

" So this sudden desire for me is not what I think it is," he suggested, drinking.

Dmitry nodded, lowering his glass.

" Of course, it's something else," he approached, looking at him.

They remained silent, looking at his glass in detail, without expression.  
Dmitry thought he had ruined it.

" You know about this, don't you?." vladimir looked at him." homosexuality.

" It's different," he said, getting close enough to hit his nose." I don't understand it, Volodya, I am a man, but I feel strange about you.

Dmitry kept looking, feeling the pressure on his neck increasing.

" You admitted what you know," he said, kissing her cheek.  
He shuddered, being driven away by the man. He laughed, feeling frisky. 

" Someone in the Kremlin has had." Start by pointing at them." Something like that.

" Of course." He said, drinking. "Didn't you see Surkov look at Khodorkovsky?

" But it's the opposition." Surprised, he smiled." Well, Surkov certainly looks at a lot of people.

" Really? I would say he has a love for Khodorkovsky." He filled both glasses, looking at Dmitry." That's sick.

He laughed, feeling that all his problems were going along with the ethics of both men.  
Dmitry felt Vladimir's hand on his leg. he looked at him, making the atmosphere heavy.

"Volodya". He called, drinking from his cup. "I don't understand.

"What you don't understand." Vladimir kept his hand, touching his thigh." Tell me.

He kept silent, leaving all his problems in the light. He drank the liquid, feeling how sweet it was as he swallowed. He left the glass on the table, feeling how dark it was.

"I, I don't know," he said, looking in another direction. "I'm confused, I don't know what I want, Volodya." 

"That's why you came here, Dima." He raised his hand, touching his abdomen and his chest. "You need answers you don't know.

Dmitry's chest rose quickly, showing his nervousness. ¿What he wanted?, he didn't know, is a complex question. 

"I..." he was silent, looking at Vladimir. "I'm not gay volodya, I have a son, a wife." 

"You still let a man jerk you off." He put his hand around the younger man's neck. "You let another man kiss you."

He put his trembling hand around his neck, touching Vladimir's hand. Feeling that his erection was starting to show.

"You're the problem." His face turned red, squeezing the man's wrist. "Svetlana can't make me love her, you can.

Vladimir's smile widened, leaving the mystery aside for something more provocative.

"Poor boy," he said, clenching his neck. "You must be so confused, not knowing anything.

Dmitry gasped for air, opening his oval mouth.  
That's when Vladimir kissed him.  
They both followed his wish, getting their different answers. Consuming in their kisses.  
The man's tongue slipped down the opposite mouth, exploring the cavity. After a few minutes he parted, looking at the young man in front of him.  
Dmitry squeezed his hand, shaking as Vladimir brushed his limb with his free hand. Strongly, suggesting something to ease his body. 

"You can make me understand," he said, struggling for air. "I need you volodya, please.

Vladimir's grip disappeared, leaving the pain in his neck. 

"You need answers, Dima." He kissed his aching neck. "I'll give them to you, boy.

He held on to Vladimir's arm, never letting go. Leaving some whimpering when some teeth penetrated his skin.

"Volodya!" she shouted, bringing her hand to her member. "Please, I need you.

Vladimir's body rose to his feet, staring at the dubious, trembling body of the prime minister.  
Dmitry looked at it, confused.  
A shriek came from his lips as his legs parted and the man's body came in between, feeling Vladimir's limb hitting his ass. 

"Dima," he called, kissing the left cheek of the man named. "You will discover how wonderful your body is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3


	6. Bathing and consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I was delayed because I didn't know how to continue this xd.  
> Second, I speak Spanish, so my English must be pretty precarious. So I translate it.  
> I think that's a pretty normal clarification so enjoy the chapter.

He felt the pressure on his lower parts, moving his hip subtly, giving a hint of what he wanted.

"Volodya." He held one hand to the opposite cheek. "I love you."

Dmitry could feel when Vladimir's body tensed, leaving the man confused. Did he say something wrong? I didn't know.  
He kissed him, pulling him close, squeezing his shirt in his need. He relaxed as Vladimir began to move, touching his body deliciously, causing some unfamiliar sensations.  
Vladimir parted from his kiss, removing the buttons from his blue shirt. 

"You don't know what you're saying, Dima." He started, removing the buttons, seeing the white skin appear. "Your mind has become confused."

Of course not, he wanted to vladimir, he needed it in every way.  
When the shirt was loose, the man stopped, seeing the soft and hard chest, though unmarked, he'd given up the sport for a while.  
Dimtry bit his lip when Vladimir kissed his chest.

A mischievous tickle running through his body, enjoying the devoted kisses, like thorns full of pleasure hitting his body. She took off her shoes with the help of her feet, without leaving her position. 

Still, what vladimir had said would stay in his mind for the next few nights.  
He felt nervous as his belt was unbuckled, the euphoria hitting his temples knowing what would happen.  
He groaned as the teeth bit into his chest, the burning was different. 

"Volodya." he called, bringing his hands to the man's shirt. "Do it now, I need you."

He felt the emptiness when he parted from his body.

He would look at him, sometimes it was frustrating to see Vladimir's face, of course, if you were a first timer you couldn't know what he was thinking; anyway, with many years of friendship, he was usually a box of strange surprises, his little gestures were wonders.  
He heard the belt unravel, the nerve invaded his body making his hand go down quickly to stop it. 

"Is something wrong?" He asked, moving dmitry's hand. "You mustn't be afraid, it's not a bad thing."

With his belt loose, his trousers began to come loose, removing the button, unzipping the zipper, leaving the fleshy lump sticking out.  
He pulled down his pants, showing his white legs stained by the thin hair that covered them.

"How adorable you are." She pulled down her boxer shorts, pulling it out of dmitry's legs. "Little bear."

He kissed Vladimir's shoulder, noticing how strong he was. He spread his legs, without the other's command. He felt the lump again.

He had taken his legs, pressing them a little, I assumed it was to calm him down, it was nice to know his patience for this. 

"Don't call me little bear." He took his hand to his limb, stroking his manhood. "That's enough about the bear in the Kremlin." 

"I think the word bear." The vladimir belt came off. "You're too big, you're too adorable for something so huge." 

Shame came over his body, giving him a pinkish touch. It wasn't the time for that. 

"don't touch yourself," he said, taking off his belt.

He took his hand off, listening to her demand. He looked at Vladimir's hand going to the jar on the table next to the sofa, he hadn't noticed, it was cheeky to have a jar of lubricant in the light of anyone.

"You must know dima." He opened the jar, unzipping it. "That no matter how much it hurts, I won't stop until I'm inside you."

He nodded, pointing out that his partner had decided not to wear his underwear at the time.  
He felt uncomfortable, the liquid touching his parts was embarrassing.  
Vladimir walked over, fixing his penis, ready to go in.

"Do it," he said, hugging the man, circling his neck. "This is no time to postpone this moment."

Dmitry's scream was surprising, it was heartbreaking, he felt his manhood going down the drain just enough. 

"Oh! Vova!" he said, squeezing his shirt. "Do it quickly." 

"A little masochistic you've come out." He joked, going in up to the hilt. 

He tried to relax, knowing that the pain would go away as quickly as it came, but Vladimir started to move, making it difficult for Dmitry to get used to his size.

"Vova!" he shouted, biting his lip and making a few shrieks. "Please, oh, no."

"Come on, Dima." He called out, biting his shoulder just enough to leave a mark. "You have to see how you absorb my penis, it's crazy."

He complained, knowing that wearing a white shirt would cause a rash on his bitten shoulder. He groaned, enjoying the onslaught of Vladimir's fury over time, it was uncomfortable, another man in his body, he would not have thought it but, it was such a pleasant feeling.  
He swayed his hips, facing Vladimir's pelvis with fury, trying to reach deeper. 

He enjoyed holding his penis, moving it in an exciting way. He knew how to touch it, it made him delirious to the point of feeling his legs shake, he knew how to get to that point in his unknown body that made him reach an elixir of pleasure in seconds. 

"You are so expressive." He said, hitting his sweet spot. "It bothers me." 

He closed his eyes, feeling the most violent and savage attacks. He was in a joy, in heaven, maybe he was dead and this was his paradise. He felt his orgasm, his knees weak and his breath starting to cut off with the growing pleasure, it was about to come.

His phone started vibrating, loud and annoying. 

"Volodya!" he shouted, squeezing his legs around Vladimir's waist. 

Vladimir's body moved enough to grab the phone without breaking the position, lucky he hadn't thrown those pants into the corner.

"Your wife," he said, handing it to her with a smile. "She must be worried about you and about you giving yourself to a man."

Dmitry responded, nervous and upset. He was about to have the best orgasm and she had interrupted him. 

"Sveta." 

His face broke, showing a deep red as Vladimir continued his penetrations.

"Oh honey, I've been so worried about you." 

He tried to stop the man, putting a hand on his shoulder with force, it was no use.

"Oh, I... Don't worry, darling." 

She stopped his moan by covering her mouth.

"What happened, darling, that sound so  
strange." 

He bit his hand when he got to his favorite place these days. 

"It doesn't happen." 

He paused, putting the phone away to complain long enough.  
He brought him in, breathing heavily. 

"There's nothing wrong, I just hit my finger, I'm tired." 

She said it very quickly, the mocking look on Vladimir's face might say he enjoyed this moment. 

"Oh well, I'm sorry honey, I just wanted to hear from you, tomorrow when you have time, could you call me?"

He complained when he bit his neck, high enough to be seen and not able to be covered with something. 

"Did something happen?"

"No, Sveta, I'm tired, oh, I'll call you." 

He hung up, throwing his phone on the bachelor's couch. 

"Look what you're doing, oh!" he cried, feeling her orgasm appear, staining both bodies. 

"Have I done something wrong?" he said, tapping his side of the left buttock. "I'm just satisfying you." 

"My marriage is at stake now." He had trouble formulating that phrase.

He clung to the white shirt, complaining that when he spread his legs most urgently, it wasn't elastic. 

"Volodya!" he shouted, feeling his limb semi-flaccid. 

"It's a pity," he said, lifting Dmitry's trembling legs.

With that position he felt different, his member felt hard again. 

"They were a good match." Vladimir's mockery puzzled him. 

He gasped, taking his own legs, helping the man in his release.  
It was faster, more erratic, the strokes of the man's testicles hitting the sweet, rounded ass of Dmitry.  
He felt his release again, pounding on his door with urgency, shattering it. His throat ached, the cramp could appear at any moment, but the pleasure, as addictive as when he first tasted it, remained, faithful to keep him until he was satisfied.  
He shuddered when Vladimir ended up inside him, warm and elusive, which had pushed him over the edge again.  
He ended up in his abdomen, embarrassed. 

"You're sensitive," he said, biting into the opposite breast. "It bothers me, dima, it bothers me."

They remained like this for a few minutes, when vladimir untied withdrew, causing a shameful sound of a cork popping out of the bottle.

"Why does it bother you?" he asked, recovering.

"You don't care." he said, taking his pants off. "I want you in my office tomorrow.

"At what point?." He touched his legs, they hurt. 

Vladimir was with his buttons, tidying his shirt when he stopped, watching Dmitry with a curious smile.

"When you call your wife, you'll go to my office and do it from there," he approached him, kissing the back of his neck and shaking his hair.

He did not question it, the man's reasons were strange but he could see that it would not end well, at least not for him.  
He complained, tired of wearing his dark underwear. The urge to travel home disappeared as his body rested on the couch.  
Then, the idea of sleeping in the man's house became present.

"Can I sleep here?" he asked, sounding more delicate and feminine than he would have liked.

"Sure, just take a bath," she said, heading for her bedroom. "You smell of sex, I don't need that smell in the air." 

He heard Vladimir's footsteps in the distance, disappearing completely in an uncomfortable silence.  
He stayed in place, looking at his legs, which were marked by the previous grip. He touched his neck, then looked at his fingers red from a few drops of blood, it had been a bit violent.  
He reflected, trying to understand what had happened, he had cheated on his wife, with another man who was his boss, it couldn't be worse.

And of course it could get worse, he had fallen in love with the man, the feelings of years of friendship had become so confused the first time, he had not understood his reaction every moment he was close to him, every accidental touch that happened.  
Maybe that was why Vladimir had let her go on, to get closer to him so that she could reach that moment when she had Vladimir's own semen inside her.  
Determined, he rose, complaining that his body was screaming for rest, he was not getting any younger than he should remember.  
He walked up the stairs, thinking of the lingering pain in his ass. In his hand rested his underwear, it would be funny to find him like that, naked with an annoying limp.  
When he reached the top floor he rested, counting thirty seconds to then walk to the bathroom, he needed something to dry himself off. 

He stopped, walking wearily to Vladimir's room, feeling like a teenager again and hating him. He knocked on the door, not having an answer; again, this time louder  
With the same answer as the first time, I didn't know if I should open, the man might be busy or asleep, I didn't want to disturb.  
He still opened the door, finding the body of Vladimir naked, with a towel around his hip. His body was wet and the drops were running down his body causing a tingling in his pelvis. 

"Do you need anything?"

He was silent, admiring the man's torso. He looked at his face, suggestive of having the answer to his visit.

"A towel," he replied, covering his suggestive limb with his underwear.

He was silent, looking at Dmitry. He felt nervous and excited by his gaze, cursing his erect limb reacting to his body and pressing against the boxer shorts, he should have put it on. 

"Of course." he said, walking to his closet, quite large and tidy. "here."

Then Dmitry turned red, like a beet red enough. Vladimir had taken off his towel, leaving him completely naked.  
He wasn't sure whether to take it, though he'd had worse, but it was different. He took it, with a certain morbidity crossing his mind. He nodded, looking at the man's flabby limb.  
He practically ran away, it was not good for Vladimir to know of his impending erection and to know that he was ready for something else. He walked to the bathroom, with the limp less evident this time. He turned on the hot water tap leaving it at the best temperature, it was nice to have a tub at this time, he could deal with his problem and rest. She waited a few moments, watching the tub fill up.

He stroked himself, joking at his tip as Vladimir had done. He cut the water, entering the tub with some difficulty, he could feel his muscles relaxing enough. He stretched his head back, resting better while masturbating, it wasn't pleasure, no, he just wanted to get rid of this problem or so he wanted to make it look. He panted, working more urgently than before, he was about to expel his semen, he was close, he could feel it.  
He felt his orgasm, sticking needles into every part of his body, only this time it was not as powerful as before. He relaxed, closing his eyes and letting out all his thoughts about the situation, what could he do, telling svetlana was not an option, she could ruin it and expose everything, he could even see in the big headlines.

"dmitry medvedev, prime minister of the russian federation in an affair with his boss."

It would be terrible, for him and for Vladimir, they would be finished.  
He allowed himself a nap, nobody expected it.

He shuddered with a breath on his neck, sometimes his imagination could be so real in so many ways. 

"Have you ever been told it's impolite to masturbate in someone else's house?"

He jumped up, splashing some water in the tub, the heart attack could have come at any time. He opened his eyes looking at the mockery in the man, he knew he liked to scare him but, it wasn't good to do it this way  
.  
"I'm sorry." She managed to say, lifting her legs to cover her body. "Just..."

"Do you feel free to do that?" He cut it off, touching the bite with his accusing finger. "Just because I stuck my penis in you doesn't give you the freedom to say so."

He hissed, embarrassed, it was horrible to feel like that all the time because of the man. 

"I just didn't want to shower with ice water," he replied, in his soft, guilty voice.

"Still," he said, holding his hand around Dmitry's neck, bringing him closer. "It was exciting, you sound like a bitch."

i didn't know vladimir had a foul mouth and that was turning him on.

"Volodya". He called, looking at the dressed body. 

Suggestive or not, he reciprocated the kiss, rolling up his tongues, shaking his heads in an intense frenzy.  
Dmitry closed his legs with a shout as Vladimir, without warning, reached between his legs, touching his hole. 

"Open your legs," he ordered, biting the young man's chin. 

I have never disobeyed the man before, this could be an exception.

"I don't want to." he said, screaming when a finger was inserted. "Vova!."

He clung to the edge of the tub, keeping his legs closed, imitating the movement of the finger inside. 

"Come on, open up." He said, in his voice the harshness of the words. "You'll be better off." 

He kept his legs closed, panting as the finger began to move in circles. His cheeks were burning, his knees were giving way and that was not good. 

"Volodya." he said, sighing faster and faster. "Stop."

"The reason?." he asked, taking Dmitry's leg out of the tub. "To say you don't enjoy it is a lie, dima."

He shouted, feeling the second finger go in, hard, strong; tapping mercilessly inside. 

He was liking this side of Vladimir, he had to admit.  
They kissed, letting out some grunts and panting. 

Dmitry brought him close enough, he could throw him in the tub and then see the consequences.

"Don't do that." vladimir parted, looking him in the eye. "I wouldn't advise it."

"do what?." he laughed, biting his lips to release a gasp.

"I know you, dima." He stuck out his fingers, standing up. "There will be consequences."

"I could handle it." he said, hugging hard enough to pull him into the tub.

The sound of water falling to the floor and the moaning of dima was all that was heard.  
He wrapped his legs around the vladimir's hip, settling into a better position, banging the belt buckle on his limb, shivering from the icy contact.  
He smiled, looking at the man's wet, expressionless face.

It certainly wasn't his best idea, and he certainly wasn't going to enjoy that consequence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3


	7. punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good things always end up at some point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I'm sorry I'm late. Jsjs had written something and I regretted it, then there's this, enjoy your

He smiled at the Minister of Agriculture, being very kind to the headache. He looked at Vladimir, bowing his head in a small indirect greeting. As he entered he stood, waiting for some order from the, a little curiosity overcame the soft thoughts, knowing that what the minister was doing in the man's offices was strong. 

"I thought you'd be here before," he said, closing the door behind him. "I was clearly wrong." 

"What are you talking about?" supposedly, walking over to the desk. "It's the break, I thought it was a good idea."

I recorded his late arrival at work, not expecting any reaction from that. 

"Many of your ideas are not good." He said walking up. "But you better call your wife."

He grimaced, pulling out his phone to dial, feeling watched by Vladimir. He called, waiting a few seconds for an answer. 

_"Honey?"_

About time, they thought.

_"Sveta, I was calling you."_

She shuddered as Vladimir started to play, she must have guessed his swaying intentions. He couldn't do anything random, he had a disguised intention, he was like a wolf in sheep's clothing. 

_"I'm glad, my dear, but what had he got so long? I was quite worried."_

_"It's not a worrying thing, Sveta, he's been working, you know."_

She thought he was pushing her towards the desk, hitting the stained wood. 

_"I know, darling, but we've talked about this. You're working too hard."_

She turned around, looking at the man, looking into his playful eyes, it was amazing to see that any feeling in those eyes, like a panther, was close enough to hit her breasts. 

_"I know that too, you know, it's the job."_

He sighed as Vladimir bent down and took off his belt. The situation was not right, the timing was dangerous. He denied it, trying to reason from the other side. 

_"It's just that I'd like to spend time with you, I haven't seen you in a long time."_

_"Sveta, you know I'd love to be with you."_

He tightened his mouth when Vladimir's lips surrounded his limb, he was focused on the conversation, he couldn't let go or he could be dressed outside his house with cries of hate beside him and some purple cheek.

He must have thought of something, something to dispel his suspicions. 

_"I could take you to dinner."_

It was a good idea, I'd take it and they'd have a moment to talk, perfect.

He complained that when he bit his limb slightly, I could feel his attitude getting annoyed. If he got jealous, I doubted it. 

_"I'd love to, honey, how about tonight?"_

_"Tonight?"_

He was breathing hard, holding back the moaning of his mouth, it was an exquisite tongue that mocked his tip, I knew what he was doing, his purpose to get into his clutches so he could possibly get into trouble. 

_"Yes, today or we could ask for it."_

I thought it would be more comfortable at home, that he could be away from people without being afraid of some annoying character accusing him of bad government decisions. 

He tried to walk away, reveling in his mouth on his limb, it was a bit contradictory but he turned out so well.

_"I think it's better at home."_

He heard a whisper on the line, maybe she wasn't alone, the company could do something good for his wife, although telling his wife it wasn't the best thing, made her feel guilty about her actions. 

_"I talked to Ilya, he'll go to his friend."_

He grimaced, he moved his hip, he was close, the adrenaline of being discovered was enormous and he couldn't live with Svetlana's guilt at finding out about his affair.

_"So, I'll buy something and we'll meet."_

He felt his testicles clenching, making his legs shake along with his impending orgasm, clenching his teeth, somehow avoiding the groans that insist on being heard. 

_"Honey, are you okay?"_

_"No, nothing alone, nothing."_

He cut himself, feeling terribly about it, it had been horrible and Svetlana was probably engaged, which was true. 

Vladimir parted, looking at him, with his accusatory air. 

"You stink, you cheat on your wife with a man." 

He regularized his breathing, thinking of some response.

"I just..."

Come on, it was true. He sucked, his attitude was disgusting and he knew it. 

"Don't remind me," he said, looking at his partner.

He tried to sound a little cocky, more manly. It was just the opposite, and he felt a little dirty in a big way.

I could see the man getting up and kissing him.

He reciprocated, taking his cheeks with both hands, bringing him closer, if he felt bad, he could feel relieved by this. He knew that no matter what he did, he was doomed to be with him, whether he wanted to or not. 

He turned, clinging tightly to the other body, resigning himself to the fact that he had lost. 

"You handled it well," he said, walking away from the kiss. "Even if you had let him hear." 

"why?"

"so you could listen to your husband being fucked by another man."

He looked annoyed, defying the man, he had never done so before and this was leading him into a rather dangerous moment. 

"Don't look at me like that." he said, authoritarian, holding his chin tight. "It's not a good idea." 

"I'm taking a chance." He kissed him, forcing himself a little.

A cry of victory hung over his heart when he reciprocated, brushing his tongues as they clung with more suggestion to the opposite body. 

Dmitry parted, taking a breath as he got up. 

"I must work," he thought of the unpleasant elf, keeping his face serious. 

"Remember your punishment," said Vladimir, taking his pen. "I will not overlook your disobedience last night." 

"Disobeying a little more wouldn't hurt." 

He left the office, maintaining his impassive, serial and inexpressive attitude, arriving at his office. 

As he entered, he shouted, covering his face which slowly turned to a carmine tone. 

He couldn't believe it, he had done it and he felt so different, something more daring, risky.

He would have been hurt the next night but he was worth it, his face was upset and the fact that the pen was almost in its breaking point moved him in a way. 

He was playing with the man's mood and he liked that in a way. 

At least he knew he wasn't indifferent. 

When he was in his chair in front of the desk he couldn't let the moment go by, although he was scared when he looked at Vladimir's face he kept on acting, he should be an actor instead of a politician, although this went hand in hand. 

Then, the picture of his wife in his gallery blamed him in a small way, he should inform him or he would be more dead last night. 

He dialed on his phone, waiting, banging the tip of his shoe against the wood. 

_"Dad?"_

He closed his eyes in annoyance, sighing for a moment.

_"ilya, your mother?"_

He heard silence, followed by whispers, then he heard his wife's voice. 

_"sveta, I have bad news."_

_"I should know."_

_"We have a meeting and then I have paperwork."_

He pressed his eyebrows against his fingers, massaging his forehead. 

_"You know it's not my fault."_

_"I know, alone.."_

He heard her discomfort, he could feel it and it made him uncomfortable. 

He tried to calm her down. 

_"We could eat another time."_

He put his phone on speakerphone, working on his papers. If he worked on this break he could leave maybe early. 

_"it's a good idea."_

He smile, seeing her availability, that he liked her, to accept his bad moments. 

That's what friends did, at least. 

_"You know, I think Doroféi is in love."_

He laughed along with her, without remembering the last time they laughed.

_"Really?_

_"Yes, he always meets her."_

They had a good time chatting, about their pets, about their son with his strange behaviour and about the horrible style of dress of some Kremlin officials.

It was nice, friendly. No romance in the air. 

When they said goodbye everything was in order, nothing had gone wrong and he could be a little more relaxed in the hours that followed. 

He reflected on his visit to the Chinese Prime Minister, considered postponing it with an excuse, inventing an illness might be a good option, considering that tonight he would be in trouble and the next day being in China was not pleasant. 

Not if he had a pain in his lower parts.

Even so he was happy, with a new perspective of acting on vladimir, I would be quite prepared with him, although with what would happen in a few hours he was not sure. 

He drummed his fingers on the table, bored. He was hungry, wanted to eat some hamburger along with a drink. 

He wailed when he did not think to bring a coat, he should have. 

He looked at the door, being opened to see Arkady enter, with half his body inside. 

"I'll get a burger, will you?" he asked.

He smiled, taking out his wallet to get the money, he was happy about this moment. When he was back in his solitude he smiled, remembering the camera he was watching in the corner of the room. 

He watched her, feeling a little silly for his very feminine reaction. 

Then he remembered masturbating.

God, it is true that human beings when they feel desire can do horrible things but this was embarrassing, he should always remember that there were a few pairs of eyes looking at him. 

He waited, looking at his hands for a few minutes until he saw the time on his watch. You should read, a good reading always helps in your day to day. 

He looked for the book he had left on his computer, when he discovered reading on his devices had fascinated him, it was great and revolutionary with technology. 

He looked in his folders, looking for the book carefully. 

He closed his eyes when his stomach rumbled, demanding food that would appear in a few minutes.

Arkady was nice to him, he used to pamper him at times despite his sullen and serious attitude, some joked that he was his nanny but they thought they were friends, at least he was. 

When Arkady came through that door he smiled at him, taking his hamburger along with the thanks. 

"Do you need anything else?" arkady held his position, straightened up. 

"no, not for now." he smiled, not so warm but friendly. 

You can see him backing away, they weren't very talkative but they were friends somehow. 

He looks at his burger, eating it with gluttony. He should go back to sports or he'd be as fat as yelstin. 

He turned his chair, looking at his fish tank, they were so peaceful, not like the old dark fish he had, that had hurt his fish.

He liked to see that emotion, to feel that he was not with a robot was much better, more now that he could feel it closer than before, was to feel special close to him, with some private pass to be a little close to the heart of the man. 

He was in love, enough to be able to take hearts out of his eyes and hallucinate with fictional scenes that could happen. 

He looked at his watch, noticing that the crimea meeting was getting close enough, he should start walking to get to the time. He was not vladimir to be late. 

He walked out, walking slowly enough to reach the meeting place, he was not interested in crimea, he found it a dead issue and digging deeper could cause a crack that would not close again, although of course, they had already reached that point. 

He greeted the officials, sitting in his position near vladimir, who was a bit privileged at the time. Surkov was in front of him, watching him in a perverse way, intimidating him a little.

Although they talked enough, they were not as friendly, not like Arkady, I should say they were closer than Surkov, they were not very compatible. 

Not when he was close to Vladimir, the atmosphere used to be heavy when that happened.

Maybe it was jealousy, I didn't know. He just didn't like seeing surkov close to the man, it was annoying to see them together, to feel that they might have some compatibility made him sick. 

When Vladimir arrived the room was completely silent, so violent that he simply cut out all sound that had come out of any mouth. Even the tapping of Lavrov's pen had stopped. 

When they had all been arranged what they would be talking about on the table, the decisions of the Government had to be thought through. 

Still, crime was still at the centre of everything, despite the fact that everything was low in order in the good sense of the word. 

He looked at his notes, crossing his gaze for seconds with Vladimir's.

He was determined, making a few notes to the man would not do more harm than it already did. 

"Shall we do something tonight?" 

He sent it, as he had done before, this had changed their relationship and he considered it important. 

But what relationship?. He wasn't sure, he was in some confusion. 

Being lovers should be some kind of answer. 

He felt the note return, smiling inside as the opposite letter spread across the sheet. 

"You're in trouble, you shouldn't ask."

He thought about it, knowing his reality. Feeling lascivious he wrote, slowly watching Lavrov speak. 

"What will be my punishment?"

He sent him off, smiling a little, hiding his smile with his right hand. He could tell Surkov was looking at him, he didn't like that attitude. He tried to look at him in annoyance. 

When the note came back a little relief ran through his body, followed his war of looks with surkov, each one more aggressive than the other.

When he had finished with surkov's patience he pressed his pen in victory.offended he reviewed his decisions, although saying about the retirements had not been his best moment could have been worse. 

He wrote, perhaps with some intention of seeking more of the man's anger. 

"oh but you could be with surkov, he's perfect." 

Although, it was a little jealous of surkov, it was justified. He used to be too close, almost provoking some vladimir touch. 

It was surprised when the face of the man it changed, a little more somber and annoying. 

Although he found that adorable, perhaps amusing. 

"We'll talk about this." 

He could feel Surkov's mocking look, as if he knew about what had happened. How he wanted to hit him. 

When the meeting stopped he sighed, rising as quickly as he could, quite annoyed at his slight attack of jealousy. 

He ignored Surkov's taunts, listening to Arkady's scolding when it happened.

He ran his hands through his wavy hair, he was sure that he had to do something about his hair or the taunts would soon come. 

He should have kept teaching, he thought; resigned himself to his present situation. 

When he was in his office he turned on the lights, for the darkness was completely bordered in its darker shades than others, more sinister ones. He did not like it, being in the dark, many horror films he could remember because of that. 

Then the moment of the meeting came, he was upset by the attitude of vladimir, it seemed as if he was worshipping the annoying Surkov, he used to be so annoying with him, insulting him and demeaning him. 

He couldn't know how much he hated him.

He heard the door open, god, they should fire his secretary or anyone could come in without any notice of arrival. 

He could see the man's body enter the room, safe and determined, he was jealous and upset, he didn't want to see it at that moment.

He looked at his papers, ignoring the man's presence, which was difficult. He was very strong, and could outshine any man by appearing at any time, just as he did in his meetings. He captured all the attention, he quailed the audience. 

Still, he felt the need to ignore it. 

"I doubt that this game will serve you well, dima." vladimir's voice sounded icy. "Not now that no one will be able to hear us." 

He closed his eyes, knowing what he had caused. 

"Meeting." He said, in an attempt to have some power. "It's not a game."

"Isn't it, I think that jealousy scene was creative." 

He opened his eyes, standing up when he looked at Vladimir's hand indicating his command. When he was close he felt a little bit of fear, but jealousy ran through his mind.

"Then go with Surkov." He turned his back on me, crossing his arms in annoyance. "I'm sure he'd be pleased with you." 

He jumped when Vladimir's hand hit his ass like violence, squeezing his right buttock hard.

"Don't ever say anything like that again." he said, clutching Dmitry's body next to his. "I'm not interested in your jealousy, that's not why I came here. This will be your punishment, dima." 

He kept his arms crossed, a little hurt by the man's words, he knew his coldness but, he was a little cruel. 

He couldn't say when he fell, he just felt his knees hit the ground, a thud as he struck.

"Get undressed, now," he said, sitting on the chair in front of the man. 

Dmitry nodded, undressing himself until he was naked, showing his marks that he had left behind that night. 

He knelt down, keeping his submissive attitude to the man. 

"Get down on all fours and turn your back on me."

The look that followed was strong, eager to do what she planned. When she was on all fours she contained her shame, she should not speak. 

With her straight look, she felt the nerve, not wanting to hesitate or give any indication of her fear, she felt she could smell it.

" one of the things. " she started, lifting her leg up to her right buttock. " which I certainly like is dima obedience, you should know that. " 

He felt the sole of his shoe trying to open his buttock. He breathed a little shakily, calming his nerves with some joke or bad joke. 

"and as much as I wish to punish that hole today," he lowered his foot to the ground, looking at the body lying in front of him. "I will not, you will beg me to stop."

The reality, he was terrified, intimidation was something that vladimir was king of and he bragged about it.

"You will suffer tonight," he said, walking to the body. "You will cry and scream but, you know that will brighten the moment." 

He groaned as his hair was pulled back, looking forcedly at the mocking face. 

He was right, some of his ideas weren't the best.

"You're sweet." He tightened his grip, looking at the marks. "You're so pathetic, dima."

He shouldn't react, of course not, it was just some hint to see his fall back into his blatant disobedience.

He didn't like this and he'd looked it up. 

When he let his hair down he felt the relief, he used to be gentle with his curls. He looked as the man left his office, heading for the next room. 

He could not move, even if he wanted to he was stuck to the floor, with a strange attraction, he felt his body weak. 

He concentrated again as Vladimir returned, holding in his hands a whip, long and thick enough for his taste; the man's smile was pleased, mocking, and severe. 

"i suppose we must correct you as in ancient times." he smiled, happy to terrorize the opposite face. "disobeying me, dima, will be the last thing you will ever want to do again." 

He breathed, heavy. Retaining his air to let go slowly, waiting for the blow. 

When he felt it he closed his eyes, wanting to rub his back. 

"You'll stay in your position, a few millimeters and I'll think again." He hit, this time on the buttock. "I think counting would be good at this point."

I shouldn't break position, it would be a challenge. 

"start." 

"One." He complains when he hits, on his shoulder.

"Two." He tries to stay in position, squeezing his lips. 

He feels his legs being separated by the vladimir's foot. 

"I let you move." He says walking a bit. "Take your ass and show me your treasure."

He does as asked, resting his face on the floor while spreading his buttocks to show the treasure according to vladimir. 

When he was exposed he felt the blow, making him scream as he took his hands away feeling the burn. 

"You've made two mistakes." He hits his hands, demanding. "Come on, face your mistakes. Count again."

He's back in position, sobbing in his pain. 

"One." He says again, crying at some point when the whip strikes.

"Two." He screams, closing his eyes when the whip hits his testicles. 

It felt like hell. 

He counts, up to ten. At the count of ten he cries, hurt enough against his hole

He was burning all over his body, and what was most repugnant to him was his limb, which was hard.

His tears ran down his face, breathing softly and brokenly, with his reddened backside along with his rather burning hole. 

He had not liked this. 

"You've taken it well." he says, happy to have it shaking before him. "You'll learn from this, dima, I don't want to repeat it." 

He stands in his position, sobbing his way to calm down, must not be so expressive. 

Feel vladimir's hand, touching his lower back to his neck. 

"You can move." 

Take his hands away, sore to the point of relaxation. Feel the relief in his body, lowering his knees to the ground. 

She screams when she feels a kick against her stomach, returning to a fetal pose. You can feel the pain against your body. 

"Look at you." He takes off his belt, pointing at it. "You can't hold anything." 

He complains, feeling the belt hit his legs, turns around, looking at him.

"All you do is cry." 

He squeezes his lips, trying not to scream. The sound of the flesh being beaten confuses him. 

"But." Pause, throwing his belt to the ground. "On your knees, now." 

He turns, his legs shaking, he could feel them demanding to stop and rest. He looks at Vladimir, straight into his eyes, he can see how pleased he is. 

He closes his eyes tightly when Vladimir's hand hits his face, with a loud slap, bringing him to the floor. His body hurt, he didn't want to be here. 

"You're an idiot." He bends over, taking his hair. "A stupid little man." 

She looks at him, humiliated and embarrassed by his words, her limb getting harder and harder. 

She deserved this, though not so extreme. 

"You have the courage to have an erection." He said, taking her arm to lift it. "Isn't that the shame in your body?"

He feels he must speak, now he's upset and offended. 

"No more than Surkov." He looks scared, defiant.

"Leave Surkov out of this." He puts his hand on his throat and squeezes it. "He has more dignity than you, even more intelligence." 

Perhaps, it was the last drop or thousands of drops accumulated over the years, every humiliation provided by his blind devotion to Vladimir, he no longer wanted to endure such things. 

"Then go to him and have sex with him!" he shouts, walking away from the hilt."If you're so flattering to Surkov get everything with him, I'm sure he'll be happy with you!" 

"Come on, Dima."

He refuses, taking his clothes with difficulty, the burning in his ass feels like hell. 

"Come on, Dima."

"No." He says, quite annoyed while dressing. "I'm not Alina Kabaeva or Vladislav Surkov to be humiliated."

He can see how Vladimir stands in his place, with his face on fire, he could see how a feather would be in his throat.

he dresses, with difficulty without taking his eyes off the man, he doesn't seem to complain, he thinks, he remains static.

"By the way," he says, looking at his trembling hands. "You can go, my work is done." 

He leaves his own office and informs his secretary that his meeting with the president is over. 

And so he left, sore and jealous, a big mix to get home to his wife. 

He could see what would happen that day.

It would be lovely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3


	8. International

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hell, I'm done with this xd.  
> I'm late, I admit it. I have some problems to solve in this story.
> 
> Enjoy, of course.

The rain was falling out of his window, hitting the car hard. He was quite upset and hurt, he knew what he was getting into by being in that kind of relationship with Vladimir. The man was difficult and he knew it. 

He was a bundle of nerves, he was very scared, sad, upset; it was a strange thing, a combination that was being dangerous. He felt that he could explode at any moment. 

He wanted to cry.

When he got home he was in the car long enough, about ten minutes crying and banging on the steering wheel, being careful not to honk the horn, that would create more problems. He didn't want to wake up his wife to see him in that deplorable state. 

He got out of the car, with a heavy, melancholy air, it wasn't his usual attitude. 

When he entered, he could see the darkness, he decided to continue, he was not in the mood to be afraid. He just wanted to rest and be oblivious to what was going on around him. He arrived at his matrimonial room, seeing his wife awake, reading her book that he had given away the previous month. 

What a good time. 

"Dima," he says, looking at him with a fading smile. "What happened?"

He feels his eyes burning, the need to cry comes over him. He hides his face, sobbing as he feels his wife's thin arms around him. It corresponds to the embrace that brings her closer to his body; regretting that he cannot desire her body, that he cannot love every part of her. 

"I'm sorry," he says, in his tears as he separates. "Alone, don't worry." 

"How can I not worry?" She grabs him by the cheeks, looking at the grimace as she does so. "What's happened to you?"

"I don't want to talk, not now." 

He sits on the bed, looking at the floor as he sits his wife next to him, holding her hand. 

"Darling." His voice is sweet, soft and loving. "You know what you must tell me." 

He squeezes her hand, looking for some warmth, this had been caused by him and he couldn't stand it. The guilt of having caused this was tremendous. 

"I know that." He keeps his voice, crisp, breathing slowly. "It's not the time, I'm not well." 

He feels the lips on his cheek, something friendly and loving, he knows this will never happen again. Not when he tells the truth. Now he needs his wife, his friend.

"My boy," he says, holding her hand in his curly hair, caressing him. "Who did this to you?"

Ignore the nickname he said, feeling his tears running down his cheeks. 

"No one." He answers, taking a breath.

You can feel the distrust in her, she knows and it's clear, that nothing is right. 

Who would have thought that something could be ruined in two days? I had been so happy and now I just wanted to cry. He smiles at her, kissing her forehead. He doesn't want to worry her, even though he's failed terribly to break enough. 

"Let's go to sleep." She says, getting up to turn off the light. "Tomorrow will be another day." 

He knows he can't take his clothes off, not now. She could see his disgusting marks.

He waits patiently for his wife to settle down, ready for bed. She had noticed his tired body when she arrived, most likely she was waiting for him. 

He sits on his bed, looking at the darkness, he's a first-class asshole if he says that tomorrow everything will be normal, he knows well what can happen tomorrow. 

He gets naked, takes his long clothes to hide the bruises he would get. He was sore and tired, it was time to sleep. 

He can feel his phone waking him up, his peculiar ringing tone could trigger some teasing if heard in some public moment. He's complaining, in pain, taking his phone without reading his name. He was tired enough to do it

I wish I'd read it. 

_"Dmitry Anatolievich."_

_"Dima."_

That was unexpected. He jumps out of his bed, hoping not to wake his wife. He sneaks out, waiting five seconds to take the next step. The floor creaks when he tries not to draw attention to himself. 

When he leaves his room, he responds, hoping he's cut the other line. Unfortunately, the call still goes through. 

_"What can I do for you?"_

_"I want to talk."_

It was a great moment, please, the sarcasm was felt in all his thoughts. 

_"It's not a good time, I don't want to."_

_"It's about your meeting about the Chinese minister."_

I had to assume and remember, be a little disappointed for the non-existent reason of wanting an apology. 

_"I know, I have everything in order."_

_"Don't screw it up."_

_"I know, you mustn't repeat it, Russia's interests won't be at stake here."_

He knows he has to talk about what happened in his office, but he doesn't feel the need to, at least not now, he needs to sleep. 

_"I must assume you are dressed and ready to get to the plane."_

he keeps quiet, looking at his watch to check the time, the flight was leaving in an hour, he was practically late. 

_"Of course, I'm ready to be with the Chinese minister, he's nice, kind of cute."_

Maybe he said it out of revenge, he doesn't know, he let it go, hoping for some reaction. 

_"Don't talk too much, I don't need to make fun of my government."_

Remorse runs through his mind, he was quite strict about his visits abroad. He was pro-Russian and served the nation with his blood. 

It was nice to think that way, it made him seem patriotic, like a hero. Someone who was willing to jump up and down for his country. 

_"You shall not have, good night."_

Cut, without receiving any answer or waiting for it, I didn't need or want it either. 

Even though she wants to be with Vladimir, she feels they're not suitable, she can see by this, that they don't work. 

She knows she must get dressed now, quickly and efficiently. Although the discomfort in his hole is killing him, when he is at the hotel he must check that place in front of all his shame. 

When he is ready, he kisses his wife's forehead, stroking her hair with love, he would love to be able to love her, to be devoted to the love that was fading between them. 

He waited for the vehicle, Vladimir wanted him to relax and not get worked up in some situation. When he was inside he looked at his phone, looking for the headphones in his inside pockets, he didn't use them, it bothered him and made him feel uncomfortable but it was the music and he, was a fan. 

He raised his situation with Vladimir, thinking he had exaggerated. He found his jealousy justified, the punishment out of place and his humiliations painful; quite cruel. 

He found the way light, quite comfortable and relaxing. He knew he was about to sleep, he could see it and feel it. His eyes are heavy, he does not feel his body and he can see everything in the dark. 

Finally he decides to go to sleep, not without some alarm. 

He wakes up, scared and nervous, he does not remember having dreamt anything in particular, he usually does not remember his dreams so this would not be the exception. It was a horrible thing to assume, he feels terrible. He looks at the time, seeing that there are three minutes left in his dream. He decides to turn it off, he didn't find the need to keep it.

He gets out of the vehicle, greeting some soldiers, shaking hands and kissing some cheeks, just a routine. 

He is anxious, he must check his papers on trade between Russia and China. He doesn't want to sleep, planes often cause him fear, a slight phobia of heights. 

He thinks of Vladimir again, looking at a painting of the president's inquisitive face. He wondered about the paintings, it was not a nice decoration on some plane. You are tired, you must not sleep or you will cause an impression that the Russian government lacks energy. Everything he would do would be judged, everything he would say would be at risk, under test. It was a constant torment of decisions that would be at stake. 

I hated these international trips. 

Look at the picture, looking for some answer in the man's personality. He knows about his difficult childhood, about his past in the KGB, but he can't find any answers. You can only see the coldness and the manipulation in his face. 

Should he apologize? No, he should at least have some dignity as Vladimir said about his person. Will he do it? That's a definite no, the man doesn't usually apologize, sometimes he does. He knows he shouldn't have any illusion that it will happen. 

Wait, taking his headphones to listen to music, choosing at random to discover, he likes classical jazz, he can feel old age in a way. 

He complains, watching the pilot report his arrival in Asian territory. He hated these moments. 

He waits, arranging his appearance a bit until the doors open, the show starts and he goes on stage. It's only time to get to the hotel, the real show hasn't started yet.

He descends, dignified and with a slight limp, that will be a sign of some yellowish news. He waves as he goes, hearing his national anthem resounding loudly and proudly. 

He can see some Asian officials, shaking hands, getting into the limo quickly, without taking off his suit. 

In his mind are the dialogues he must say, he waits patiently for his arrival in the capital, he has to be discreet. He can look at his translator, serious and distant, a little absorbed in everything. 

At the moment of his arrival he breathes, leaving with strength to look at his hotel, of great quality. The best for the Russian Prime Minister. When he came in he complained, he had been sitting for hours and his backside demanded a rest or relief.

A shower sounded like an excellent idea, besides his internal problem he was obliged to enter the bathroom. 

He undressed, filled the tub for a moment, feeling the right temperature. He looked at himself, seeing his marks and some bruises. He is guilty in certain parts, he had gone to vladimir to provoke this. 

He enters the tub, reveling in the liquid running down his body in a spectacular massage. 

He is in that position for a few minutes, not thinking about anything or anyone, just looking at the water in front of him while time goes by. It's amazing to think about time, it's something different and philosophical. Nothing stops him, he is relentless in his being, he just keeps going even if we disagree, time does not interest him, it is horrifying that and it is scary to know that all time is counted. 

He must check his body, he knows it and it makes him ashamed. He opens his legs, not so exaggerated, it still hurts. He puts a finger up to his hole, complaining about the burning that ran from touching his affected area. He puts his finger in, a little sore and for no reason. He wants to let go and leave. 

He charges in, simulating penetrations as he touches her nipples with his opposite hand, ignoring her limb that was filling with blood and desire. She feels the pain in her body, saying that this is not the time to make her desires satisfied. 

He is not interested, he wants to be free and he needs it. 

He hits harder, entering a second finger along with a painful scream, he does not stop, he must not. He goes deeper, taking a little air out when he touches his own prostate, opens his legs more, punishing himself, the pain is unbearable, his pleasure is the same way. This is not desire, of course not. 

He feels his phone vibrating, on the toilet seat next to him. He takes his fingers away, calming his body and voice a bit, it shouldn't be anything suspicious. 

He answers, listening to Vladimir's voice. 

_"congratulations, you didn't ruin anything."_

He smiles, knowing that he's still angry with the man, hurt and all, but he can't help smiling. 

_"I'm doing my job."_

_"It's a good initiative, the United States will be accusing about the alliance."_

He can't help but be upset, he'd think of some apology or pretext but the man seems determined to make the issue go away. He would make it appear. 

_"You won't talk about yesterday?"_

Silence is king on the other line, he knows he's stepping outside his comfort zone, he shouldn't have done it. He should still do it. 

_"Of your unjustified jealousy?."_

Bite your tongue, withholding an insult. That would make things worse. 

_"Are my humiliations justified volodya?"_

He knows this can trigger a fight, he doesn't try to stop it either. 

_"You provoke this yourself."_

He thinks, looking for an answer. 

_"Don't evade the question Volodya, if only you tell the truth."_

Listen to a whimper on the other line. You're trying the man's patience. 

_"You know that waiting for an apology from you won't happen, right?"_

He moves, looking for a better position. The water moves, caressing his body. 

_"At least tell me that you love me."_

_"You're not indifferent, be happy about it."_

The other line is cut, it stays in time. Did you hear right? Was it your imagination or some bad trick? 

He reacts, throwing his phone on the ground while tapping the water, he's confused. 

He was not indifferent. 

He knew it wasn't a full-blown love, but it was a caring thing and he knew how cold it was to say it, it must have been a challenge to say it. 

Maybe his crying was worth it. He doubts that, but he wants to believe that it is. 

He still has to tell his wife and he's afraid of that moment. 

It's not a statement but it's a statement that something is going on inside the frozen heart of vladimir. He can see what has happened, he knows that he is at the breaking point of man's reasoning, he takes it to a heavy moment. 

He has to rest at this moment, acting discouraged the next day will generate paranoia in the viewers and then in those pages of theories. 

He remembered his blog, he should write at some point, he is left out and that can't be possible, at least for him. 

He is looking at the ceiling, not knowing what to do, contemplating the events of this day. 

He looks at his phone, looking for something to distract him from. He looks at his gallery, looking at pictures of landscapes and some pictures of him, it was funny to see his face so happy, surely this would be a source of mockery. Of course, he was a mockery. He is a little melancholic, he knows that everything he said last night is true, that he is tired of the mocking and humiliation but it is destined. As long as he's still in the Kremlin of course. 

He's the mockery of the world and he doubts that will ever change. 

He thinks about calling his wife, he hasn't talked to her all day but the schedule is different besides, he would be impregnated with questions, he doesn't want that, not for now. 

He closes his eyes, feels the melancholy for his body, he knows he shouldn't be like this but it's inevitable, he's a bit addicted. 

He's weak, like Vladimir said. 

It is the fourth time that man goes through his thinking, he is getting out of control and does not want to control it, he is aware that he has become sensitive, he wants to cry about everything and does not know the reason. 

It must be the age, he is getting old. 

At this time he feels tired, yawns thinking about his age, his life and his decisions and mistakes, his successes, complications and vladimir, above all in him.The next day the show begins, he is ready and with his translator they wait.

At the moment of his arrival he breathes, coming out strongly to look at the Chinese minister, he can see through his glasses the intelligence and determination, a little dangerous for him. 

They greet each other, each translating what he said. Walking with form the meeting begins, he hoped to have vladimir, the notes served to distract him. Ignore his thoughts, the relations of both countries are at stake, he should not think about his love problems. 

He smiles when the minister starts talking, he is quite polite and simple, nice. He repeats what he had memorized, like a programmed robot, like a puppet in the best hands. It was all set up before he arrived. 

He hopes the meeting will be quick. He can see li keqiang's face twitching, that scared him a little. 

They talk about their trade relations, how they could forge an alliance to hold the United States in their hands. 

He agrees, he knows well that these relations help in the income enough to support the country, the great nation. 

He is bored, listens to the minister speak without words, nodding at every expelled prayer. Perhaps he was silenced and in the meetings he used to talk too much, the Chinese were a bit strange, everything was expected of them. 

The hours go by, he plays his part without ruining anything, everything is perfect. The time has come to give gifts to every nation.

He's bored, the minister keeps talking about the history of every gift given to the country, it's a bit frustrating. 

He listens to his translator talking to him, relating what he has said, he can tell that he is in the same situation, both are bored. 

He explains, taking a short, precise time about the gift, smiling as the cameras focus on his face. 

"He's cute." 

"What?." Dmitry looks at his translator, a little confused. 

"He said you're cute." The translator smiles, shy and uncomfortable. 

He keeps silent, smiling at the Prime Minister, is uncomfortable and wants to leave the place as quickly as possible. 

Then he remembers they have a private meeting, the two of them alone. 

He notices the other man's approach is annoying, he is closer than before, he can almost feel his whole body next to him. Still, he keeps smiling, looking at the Asian candy he will be tasting in the Kremlin. He walks, together with Li keqiang to the room, he is a bit nervous and anxious, he wants to finish this soon, that translator better not be too far away from him. 

They shake hands, sit down, hold back their moan, he shouldn't be complaining. 

"Mr. Medvev, I'm glad to have you here." The translator goes on, taking notes in Chinese. 

"Well, Mr. Keiqang, it's a pleasure too," he says, waiting for the translator to do his job. 

"I understand you are fluent in English." 

"I can understand it, not speak it." He says, waiting, this is getting annoying. 

"Sir, the minister is asking us to leave." said the translator, taking his papers. "He wants to talk to you in complete privacy." 

Think, by taking a little time, this couldn't end badly supposed. 

He accepts, watching his translator withdraw with the colleague, his nerves increase. 

"It's nice." The Chinese minister speaks, moving his seat a little closer. "I didn't know he had beautiful eyes."

He's walking away a little bit, squeezing his hand a little bit tight. This is uncomfortable. 

"Thanks, I guess." he says, in horrible English, I should practice. 

"I suppose." he asks, standing up. "There's something strange about him, he's attractive." 

He feels the need to get up, leave the place and break all ties with China. 

Despite that, he doesn't, being in his seat a bit tense. 

"I don't think it's appropriate." 

"I just say what I see." The man moves forward, standing in front of him. "Is it a lie what my eyes see?." 

Well, he wears glasses, I doubt it's true. Think, laughing a little. 

"I don't know, everyone has a different sense of attractiveness." He says, getting up. "I think it's time to go." 

"So quickly? I don't think President Putin is jealous of your departure." 

He frowns, walking up to the door, opening it quickly. He doesn't like being told the truth to his face. 

"Go back to China, next time we can have some fun." 

He nods, smiling politely, walks to his patiently waiting vehicle. That was strange, annoying, uncomfortable, something described in many unpleasant words. 

He enters the car, taking a breath when he feels safe, he can feel his body shaking from the fear. 

He takes his phone to watch the news of his visit. He can see the unpleasant yellowish headline appear. 

**_"DISCREET FLIRTATION, CHINESE PREMIER SLANDERS RUSSIAN COUNTERPART."_ **

He closes his eyes, annoyed, and a desire to beat the minister, surely vladimir must be upset. 

Check the other newsreels, each one emphasizing the moment that li keqiang says how attractive he is. 

This can't get any worse. 

And of course it can, the theories of some bromance running around their countries are rising with fury. Now every action he takes with China will be criticized, more than it already is of course. 

He wants to get home, be with his wife and child although, surely he must be on his way out with that friend. He feels the worry coming on, the distrust slowly building up in his mind. He has no doubt that his son is homosexual, and there is enough evidence to believe that his orientation has deviated a little from his reality. It is not a problem, he wants to think it is not, to eliminate it somehow. 

He maintains his doubts, there is no need to find out. Many signs appearing as a slap in the face. Since childhood your fear of your child's reality has been questioned. He used to be very feminine, more attached to his friends, hugging his male companions all the time. He was a bit like him, only he was gentle in his features. 

He enters the plane, greeting the soldiers again, they must be as bored as he is. 

When he is on the plane he looks at his watch, a bit uncoordinated to Chinese time but he knows the time in his country, he will most likely be in Russia around three in the morning.

He picks up his thoughts, being submerged enough to take the call that is demanded on his phone. 

You would not be surprised if your child is gay, he doubts his heterosexuality as much as you do. 

After hours in his entertainment has reached its destination, he must remember to charge that phone or he won't have enough battery for the next day. Waiting for the vehicle, a little tired, travel often does, is a strange thing. 

He longs for his bed, to be sleeping enough to rest completely, it is delightful to think so. 

She is at the foot of her house, completely immersed in darkness, it is a relief that those bruises on her neck are gone.

He enters, quietly and silently, hoping not to attract attention or wake anyone up. He can feel the warm embrace of his blankets on his body.

And of course, this was the beginning of the day. His bed would wait when the sound of the humming bird vibrated in his pocket. He read arkady's name, it was common to have some conversation with him in the early hours of the morning since, both of them used to leave work late at night. 

_"Have you seen those headlines, Dmitry?_

_"Of course I have, they're everywhere."_

He sighed, taking his computer apple, he certainly had a great fanaticism for the American product he had to admit. As much as arkady, the iphones were his weakness. 

_"You must have seen the boss's face."_

Arkady used to treat Vladimir with a different kind of respect, he assumed that telling him his diminutive was not in his plans. 

_"Vladimir Vladimirovich? Are we talking about him?"_

He felt differently that seeing the man upset in public meant Vladimir was a conservative person, not an outwardly-minded one and appeared to be an unshakeable wall. That had worked, the public was fascinated. A leader so strong that he doesn't let anyone intimidate him, a good propaganda to have a secure re-election. 

He turned on his computer, forgetting he was still working. A few documents and he could rest. He took advantage of charging his phone, the conversation was interesting. 

_"Of course it was. He smashed the pencil he had when he read the headline."_

He was silent, he was already silent but virtually not. He was surprised, a strange attitude from vladimir. 

_"I can't believe it, he must have been very upset."_

"too much, he even called you and you left him on the line. Believe me, he took it out on Slava, threatened to fire him if I didn't show the video."

Apparently, it touched a nerve in the president to unleash an overwhelming possessiveness. 

_"and Slava did it?"_

_"you think he wouldn't do it?. He didn't wait two seconds to look for it."_

He smiled, writing his return address to send the document. 

_"So, do you think he'll be angry with me?"_

_"Most likely."_

He grimaced, sending his mail. He remembered getting a call, he was too tired to answer. 

_"Tomorrow will be a hard day."_

_"for you. You must rest, they will crucify you tomorrow."_

_"very encouraging arkady, good night."_

He says goodbye, stretching his body to look at his inbox. A few yellow headlines, promotions, rubbish really. 

He closed his computer, taking his phone while walking down the halls of his house, he liked his prime minister's house, it was nice. 

He watched his cat sleep, he was a lazy first level that animal. A little rough, a little grumpy, but loving in certain places. When he opened the door he looked at the sleeping body of his wife, he would like to plan something familiar. Enjoying the three of them while drinking some lemonade, would be a good scenario. 

He dressed, feeling the burn in a moment, he had forgotten it in fact. He slips into the sheets, with the warmth covering his body, hugging his wife. He remembers when he met her, waving her blonde hair with her delicate, feminine step. He had fallen in love, supposedly. He didn't believe it, he used to see more of his friends than he did of her, but they were great friends, they had done some crazy things that will remain hidden in his memory. There is no need for third parties to know about her teenage exploits. 

Kiss the back of her neck, with love. She had given birth to her beautiful son, to her pride. It would be hard to say that instead of loving her he feels a love for his boss who is a man. He throws an annoying, fake, rather sad smile. That would end his marriage, his life as a man. 

And all because of him, because of the man who just sits and watches the puppets dance until they get fed up. Then, he would cut the strings when they refused some order, they would be sleeping under the sea or in some bear cave. The best destination was the prison, even though he died there. To be against man was to be against death.

Still, I was determined to dance with death. With his slow waltz while his followers cheer with euphoria as he slowly consumes him, leaving him empty. Like the cut-up puppet shell that has long been. The difference between him and the others..

He thinks, hugging his wife. There's no difference, he's just like so many puppets. The string could change because, he didn't have any strings. No, of course not. He was wearing chains, attached to his neck and limbs. 

He brought her to him, taking a breath when the smell of her perfume permeated his pits. You should buy that lotion more often. 

He's tired, he wants to sleep. 

That won't be allowed, his insomnia comes on strong as punishment for allowing those headlines to appear. I was sure that sleep would be the last thing he would do. 

So he was, looking at the ceiling while imagining the different situations that will arise tomorrow.

Some of them should have a happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, this might take a while. Although I hope I can write more insistently. <3


	9. Forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my new delivery, I think it's a little shorter than the last one.

He was nervous, he had constantly woken up early in the morning. I didn't know the reason, a horrible dream I can't remember. He embraced his wife as he felt something watching him, like a monster in his childhood stories lurking in the darkness. Waiting for some false step to bury his protruding fangs in his flesh and tear him apart in fury until his life was over. 

He worked on his mind, fixing the problems he'd have when he got to the Kremlin. He knew he would never sleep again, so he decided to get up, he wouldn't be lazy if he could do anything. He looked at the time, it was six o'clock in the morning; three hours of sleep had brought out at least some of his tiredness.

He parted from her, kissing the back of her neck to get up for work. He was in the shower for a short time, not as long as before. He looked at himself in the mirror, applying shaving cream. His neck was normal, with some red spots but not strange, it didn't look like a bite at least. He had a nasty bruise on his side, the kick Vladimir had given him was painful. The man's strength was still intact. 

He shaved, looking into his eyes as he denigrated himself. He was hideous, unattractive, a bit out of weight and horrible bags, and not counting his body in general, his forehead too pronounced.

He was a horrible creature. 

He should stop thinking like that, his self-esteem should be at the top, he should have confidence and he should have everything, but he was not. She lacked many things and one of them was confidence, 

He dressed, choosing his blue suit to match his eyes, softer and more cheerful than Vladimir's. When he was ready, he took his iPhone, along with the charger and his headset. 

It would be a great day. Please understand the sarcasm that is present. 

When he was at the kremlin gates, he could see Arkady's silhouette waiting with a smile. You could see the pity in his eyes. 

You greeted each other, shaking hands as you walked to his office, talking perhaps about chess, a little game wouldn't be bad; at recess, of course, he didn't want to get fired. 

"You'll be dead." 

"I know," he says, walking slowly with a light smile.

"He was very upset when he arrived." Arkady throws, with his hands in his pockets." He ignored everyone as usual but there were some national security officers and he pushed them away." 

He looked at him, confused. 

"How did he pull them away?"

"He pushed them away and God forbid, he's very angry." 

He thought a bit, they both came into the office. Saying goodbye to Arkady as he sat down. He was a bit scared knowing he'd have to talk to him later but, well, he'd have some time to prepare. He would be looking at some papers and documentation along with pensions and the economy. He would concentrate on one part, signing some things, updating his blog and feeding his fish.

He hadn't left his office. So he was attached to the situation behind his doors. He decided to go out, a walk in the Kremlin would calm his cravings; as much as his bladder wanted to calm down. He went out to take a breath, walking around while smiling at some officers, it was strange to see the gloomy attitude. They were scared or nervous, he didn't know, he wasn't an expert in body language. 

He went to the bathroom, a little hastily when he arrived he looked at the details. They were elegant, they could be mistaken for some important room if they didn't see the sink and the toilet. He washed his hands, watching the foam disappear, dried his hands. 

He was surprised to see Vladimir with his arms crossed. His look was intimidating. Well, everything about the man was. 

"Do you have anything to offer?" he asked, taking a defensive stand. 

"I moved up my meeting with you," he said, looking upset. "Come with me." 

He followed, a little nervous. The sympathetic looks of the man passing by were comforting.

The idea of passing out and saving that meeting was pretty good. It would be a tangible excuse in case I unleashed the man's fury. 

When they came in he looked at his office, sitting at the desk exclusively for these situations. He was nervous as he watched Vladimir take his seat, throwing a Russian newspaper in front of him. The picture on the front page was him and the Chinese minister. 

"Do you think I'm up for your games?" he said, tapping his fingers on the wood. 

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He jumped up when Vladimir hit the table, breathing fast as he walked away. The man is upset and he knows it. 

"I don't like your games." He pointed, clutching his hands.

"I'm not playing anything." he muttered, taking the newspaper.

Look at the minister's smiling face, a mockery could be the closest thing. Maybe he knew what would happen and did it on purpose, as he thought. The Chinese were strange. 

"You do it." he says, smiling a little. "Hinting your body like a bitch at that asshole."

He was embarrassed. Vladimir used to keep his insults to himself on extreme occasions, it was difficult to be the recipient of those words and not the spectator because, you've seen the man's fury at other people - it's not pleasant. 

"I haven't done anything Vova." He threw the newspaper, looking at it. "Don't insinuate me to anyone." 

"Then why did all the newsreels say about your bromance?" His tone of voice was dangerous." "Do you want to make fun of me?."

He denies, as vladimir gets up from his seat, he's scared. 

"No volodya, I wouldn't." He looks at her as she approaches him, waiting for his breath. "I didn't do anything." 

He feels like crying, God, a little pathetic. 

He jumps again when he hits his fist on the table. He knows he has to defend himself, assert himself as a person. 

"Don't lie." He takes his shirt, pulls it up to him. Did that asshole say anything to you?"

He feels his side hurt, a sudden twinge. 

"He just said." He forcefully takes his hand away, impressed by his own reaction. "When I go back to China I could have fun with him." 

He knows he's challenging him, if he gets another beating, it will be by confronting him. 

He's pushed into his chair, being approached by Vladimir's body as he imprisons him with no apparent way out. He screams as he presses his side, complaining of the pain. 

"What happened to you?." he says, grabbing his cheeks with one hand. "Did he do something to you?."

He holds the pain in the form of vladimir pressing, denying, taking a breath. 

"No, he didn't do anything." He says, holding her side with his right hand. 

"I don't believe you." 

He struggles, trying to stop his clothes from coming off. Taking his arms and pushing them away with failed will, vladimir is stronger than he is. He is with his naked torso, being watched by the man, he feels vulnerable. 

"Why are you like this?" He touches the bruise, pressing it down.

He runs out of air, pushing his body away a bit. 

"You." With difficulty he speaks, feeling the shame in his actions. "You kicked this." 

He looks at it, seeing some different nuances this time, he doesn't know how to describe them because he's never seen them before. 

"I see." He says, stroking the area. "I didn't think it would look so bad." 

"You see, your ideas are not so good." 

He feels the slap against his face, complaining when he feels the burn against his cheek. 

"Don't disrespect me." he demands, clinging to his body, whispering in his ear." Does your hole hurt?"

He feels that he should not be ashamed, he knows that he should hit him and defend himself, pull out his fangs like the bear he is but, he feels like a little defenceless insect before a big tiger. 

"Yes." He says, sighing as he touches his cheek. "It hurts."

"you shouldn't have disobeyed."

He feels his strength appear, annoyingly pushes the man to take his shirt while he buttons it up. He has to get out of that place. 

"None of this is my fault, Volodya." He scowls, dressing himself.

"Is it mine?" he asks, crossing his arms. 

He's upset, he wants to hit him. 

"I don't know, you tell me." He spits, exhaling wearily. "Who hit me?" 

You're having too much friction, you can feel this will unleash a disaster. 

"It's justified." 

"It's not!" he yells, annoyed. "I'm tired volodya, you don't trust me, I gave myself to you and, did I get a kick?." 

See the dangerous approach of Vladimir, keep his distance a little, watching him. 

"I... I." He stammers, annoyed. I threw myself to the wolves for you, I care about you and believe me I do it volodya!"

Feel the man's hands holding his shirt, bringing it to him. 

"Listen." His lips are close, they touch for a moment. "I am the president, I can have anyone I want."

He bends his face, avoiding his gaze.

"It's not a problem to get another hole to fuck." He keeps his grip, firm, cruel and ruthless. 

He mumbles, something he can't understand, feels his heart squeeze every moment. 

"What did you say?"

He thinks, whether he's talking or not. He surrenders, feeling rejected. 

"You said it wasn't indifferent." He lowers his head, repenting. 

He listens to the silence, something unusual at this time. It's distant, strong, something abruptly changed. 

"Go away." 

He doesn't hesitate, taking his coat as he disappears from the office. 

He walks, evading people who cross his path. He can see Arkady approaching him, with a worried look on his face. 

"dima I heard you went to his office." 

He nods, walking to his office quickly being followed by him. 

When they enter the office he collapses, crying as he walks to his desk. 

"What happened, Dima?" he asks, approaching him with a handkerchief.

"If you only knew what happens." He takes his pen, stroking it. "I'm an Arkady idiot."

"Don't say such things, Dima." She sits down at his desk, looking at him. "What's wrong with him, tell me." 

He sighs, looking at his pen while feeling a tear running down his cheek. He hesitates to tell the truth, he shouldn't make a fuss or anything. He doesn't want to feel this pain alone either, he needs to express it. 

"i'm in love with vladimir." 

Look at Arkady's eyes opening wide, a little surprised at such a confession. He turns his gaze to the pen, stroking it as he remembers when it was handed to him. A gift from the man who is now his torment, 

"hell dima." Arkady staggers in, taking the desk for support." That's it, impressive." 

He smiles at him, a little nostalgic. 

"I know it's strange." He looks at the picture of the president with a grimace. "I have a wife, a son who seems to be gay and I... I'm in love with my boss." 

This must be crazy, a shame to have to tell the truth that burns you up but, it does and you can't do anything about it, at least, you don't want to do anything about it anymore. 

"Does he know your situation?" he asks, more calmly.

"He's aware of my feelings." 

He feels the knocking of the door, gesturing to get Arkady off his desk, it would look bad in every way if someone came in. He gives consent, watching his secretary enter. 

"Mr. Dvorkovich, the president needs you in his office." 

They sigh, shaking hands. Arkady nods, walking out. 

"By the way, Dmitry Anatolievich." Pause, looking at him. "You have my full confidence." 

He nods a little, smiling in a strange way. It's no time to cry, he must work.

The lights are on, darkness has invaded the Kremlin, soldiers are standing at the gates protecting the perimeter. The officials are leaving the place, the time for work is over and everyone is preparing to return to their homes. 

Everyone except Dmitry. 

He's not, he's still working, he won't leave his office. He ignored all the staff who tried to talk to him on their break. He keeps his eyes on his computer, writing the last part of the blog he had left halfway through. A jazz band plays in the background, setting the place up a bit so as not to be completely silent. 

He hasn't thought about what happened, he doesn't stop to write about Siberia. He finds that he no longer has to direct his thoughts to something that has already been declared.

He thinks that he is alone, his secretary left the place together with the others, it is understandable. He feels that there is no one left in the Kremlin, at least he thinks so as he closes the door to his office.

He feels a body behind him and the hands at his side give him away. They came softly, lightly and without any sound. He is frightened by the sudden appearance. 

He is static, not moving or breathing but can feel the person's breath on his neck and nape of the neck. A little bit of whisky can be noticed among so many other spirits. 

"dima." 

He closes his eyes, presumably the only person who would be as late as he is. He turns around, looking at Vladimir's drunken face in surprise. 

Watch as he lays his head on his chest, breathing heavily when he smells his lotion.

"You're drunk," he says, gently pulling his body away. 

He reflects on leaving him, for all he has done would be a just reward but, his aching heart still refuses to leave him. He lifts one arm over his shoulder for a foothold, down the endless stairs of the place. 

He is grateful for the silence, it would be uncomfortable to talk to him man after what happened.

They arrive at the door, leaving the establishment to go to the vehicle. He can see that the man is still awake, looking at a fixed point. He opens the co-driver's door, pulling the man into the car while listening to a whimper. You must leave him in novo ogaryovo and withdraw until further notice. 

It would be a long way to go assuming he's on the outskirts of Moscow. 

He drives, leaving the place while looking at the man, remains silent. 

Well, at least he's not violent, he thinks.

He sighs, shaking as Vladimir's hand rests on his right leg. He looks at him, confused in a way, he's never faced the man drunk before. 

"Oh dima." he speaks, with his raspy voice. "You have the most delicious body I've ever tasted." 

He blushes, embarrassed at the man's statement. He must not listen, not fall. He looks at the road, ignoring the man. 

"You must know." He keeps his hand on his leg, without letting go. "Your ass is exquisite." 

"Volodya silence."

He was surprised, he had never treated the man like that. He has a certain rejection of alcoholic people, he tends to have a hard attitude towards them. 

"And your hole." He continues, ignoring the request. "It's so tight, I wish I was always there."

He speeds up when they leave town, vladimir's sayings are embarrassing him and he doesn't want to hear it.

"Why can't you keep quiet?" he says, looking at a speeding car.

"When you left my office." He strokes his leg lovingly. "I felt so bad, dima, I've been so blind to you." 

Brake, being in front of the man's residence. Close your eyes, listening to the man's words. 

"Dima, you must understand me." He murmurs, raising his hand to the back of the man's head. "You're the only one by my side." 

They enter the residence, he's ready to take the man down but he stops. He doesn't know why he's doing it. 

"Listen, Volodya." He reasons, "I shouldn't talk to someone drunk. I'm tired."

"You're the only one who's ever wanted to be with me." he strokes his neck, looking at him. "looking at me."

In spite of everything, he looks at him. Being assaulted by vladimir's thin lips. He shouldn't reciprocate, the whisky lips are leading him to a point of no return.

He opens the door, coming out forcefully, falling to the floor. He gets up while closing the door, he must finish this. 

He walks to the co-pilot, opening the door as he is embraced by the man, pushes him, gently as he does not want to be thrown up with a sudden movement. 

"Volodya you are heavy." he complains, closing the door as he makes him walk.

They climb a small ladder, he must open the door. He thinks, looking in the man's pockets for some keys.

"Do you want to be with me?" he smiles, kissing her lips gently. 

He grimaces, parting from the kiss. It's a bit scary this time. He manages to get a key that opens the door, walking with the man through the main room.

"Here I took you in your best dima orgasm." He breaks away, proud as he staggers a bit. "You were so cute that time, you were scared but you managed to wear it like a pro." 

Bufa, feeling the blood on his cheeks. This attitude of vladimir likes, it would be nice if he was sober and aware of his actions. 

"I'll take you to sleep volodya." 

"Only if you sleep with me." He comes, taking her waist like a woman. "We don't sleep together on your first time." 

He moves forward, with him surrounding his waist. You must go upstairs.

"I have to see my wife." he reasons, climbing the steps slowly.

"You know you're special to me." Kiss her cheek, smile. "Not just anyone has sex in my house." 

Nods, playing along as they reach the last step. Takes him to his room, leaving him on the edge. What should he do now, his clothes will be uncomfortable when he sleeps but he hesitates. It's not good to take a drunk man's clothes off.

"You're so sweet, Dima." He takes off his tie, throwing it away. "And decides to be with me."

he approaches him, taking the buttons off her shirt, feeling the man's smile. 

"Everyone's left me." He keeps talking, stretching out his arms in a yawn. "You're the only thing I have dima." 

He smiles, taking off his shirt to continue with his shoes. He mustn't fall, he repeats. 

With both shoes off, touch the belt. 

"Do you want to do something forbidden, dima?" he asks, giggling. 

He removes the belt, pulling down his pants to look at the hard limb sticking out of his underwear. 

"I'm willing." He says, stretching. 

He pushes him to the bed, opening the sheets to bring him in. He's tired, he wants to sleep. 

When everything is in order, he is ready to leave. 

"You're so cute." 

"Don't say such things." 

He decides whether to do it or not. It's a bad idea but he kisses his forehead, leaving the man in silence. 

"Goodbye Volodya." she says, leaving the place.

When he's in his room he thinks, dressing in a short shirt while looking closely at the pen. 

He smiles melancholy and confused. He does not know what happened, it is strange to think of the amount of alcohol that vladimir may have hidden. 

He feels his wife on his chest, hugging him like a teddy bear, a teddy bear looks more like him. He caresses the back of her neck, a little annoyed with what has happened, it is one of those manipulations of the man that causes remorse while in his prime. 

So why does he feel so bad?

He doesn't know why, a twinge in his chest informs him that nothing is right. I should talk to Arkady about this, of course, leaving out what happened tonight. No one must know that, at least, not yet. 

He's falling, he's failing at everything. He must be losing his mind because of the man and he knows it, that's what he plans to do. She must think it's funny to play on her feelings and then reject him. 

Close your eyes, you should sleep and forget what happened, forget Vladimir. 

Forget it. 

It is something difficult, the man has snuck so much into his mind and heart that can not get it out, since he first looked at him felt the difference. He felt nervous to be near him and excited when he looked at him. 

He should have turned down the offer to work there, his world would have been completely different and he wouldn't have to deal with what he feels right now. 

But, if he should be away from the man, forgetting him and being another hole would be.

He would extract it from his heart despite his great pain to do so, it was the ideal, the best for everyone. 

Would it be right? You don't know. His doom would be everywhere, wherever he heard from man. 

Touch her lips, it will be a challenge to overcome what would come but it must be done. The strong moments must be faced by men of hard mind and strong body. He would return to sport, an image of energy and vitality would be ideal at this time.

You wonder what vladimir would be doing, most likely he is in a deep sleep due to alcohol; or maybe he got up to look for it and stumbled in the attempt.

The remorse of having abandoned him began, perhaps he was hurt and he had abandoned him. 

He denied, he must not think and imagine something that surely has not happened. He must sleep, this is not doing him any good. 

Yawning, letting himself be carried away by his external thoughts. Feeling his wife's arms on his chest. 

It was time to sleep and forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3 jjsjsd


	10. Pact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is too long, I think I overdid it. Xd 
> 
> Enjoy anyway

He's in his office, he's looking at his desk while he's thinking about last night. It was historic, Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin has lost his mind and exploded in drink until he almost lost consciousness. He denied, signing some documents that were waiting for patients; it had been nice, the words he said last night were somehow encouraging but he feels that the illusions are not there at this moment. He must not feel something for the man who is trampling on his heart as he kicks it. 

He doesn't know if the president has arrived, he assumes that arriving before the vast majority makes a difference. You can watch and relax enough to put up with the constant discomfort of the day.

Look at his secretary walk into his office, looking a little disheveled. ¿Doesn't that woman know about presentation?

"Mr Medvedev, the President needs you urgently," he reports, fixing his hair as he retires. 

He wants to fire her and he will. He's already delivered his message about Katerina being fired, he doesn't want to see her anymore. 

She's an unpleasant woman, unattractive in every way. Surely she must not have someone by her side with the bad temper she has, although, she does not know it. You have never seen anyone in the life of that woman, it must be sad to be alone for the rest of your life because of your attitude. 

He shakes his clothes, fixing his tie as he prepares to walk in the direction of his torment. Just like a lamb at the slaughterhouse ready to be slaughtered only the difference is that he is prepared for everything, if he must be fired he will understand the situation and come out with his best smile in an outcome that has followed a decade. 

Think of the government as it walks, it's so corrupt in a way, it's disgusting to assume that it's not while thousands of people are dying on their meager pensions. It is shameful to know that he himself is causing this, it is something buried, and above all, the very idea of being in opposition. It's like having a rope around your neck that will be cut as soon as you have it clamped around your neck. It is difficult to be against this government, against the era of President Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin, against the new Russian Tsar who will make the Americans tremble and rejoice in his will like new dolls. It is sad to know the reality of their country, to know that it contributes to such deceptions while people applaud euphorically at every news, while they greet them with joy knowing that they are so badly off but still believe in the speech that everything will get better and that the government will take care of everyone's problems. 

Open the door, don't wait another second. 

Look at the president's body, so stoic and powerful, intimidating in every way possible. He sighs, looking at his annoyed face. It is customary to look at that face with that emotion so ingrained in it. 

"Have a seat." he says, patiently, somewhat surprisingly considering his grumpy face.

He arrives at the chair, sitting down as he looks at the man with distrust. 

"Volodya, I thought..."

It is interrupted, by the hand of vladimir in the air. He feels this is not right. 

"I prefer the formality Dmitry Anatolievich." His tone becomes harsh, not at all friendly. "I wish to inform you, mainly in person that all our ties have been cut." 

He remains silent, taking this statement by surprise. He doesn't know what to say. 

"It's a pretty good idea." 

He denies, rising up suddenly. This can't happen, not now that he's so attached to the man. 

"Volodya." His voice is sad, trembling. "You can't do this just because I've seen you drunk." 

This time he doesn't jump, the knock on the table doesn't scare him. The look of vladimir remains on him. 

"Listen, we've been through several moments." He keeps the formality, upset. "This is over and I propose that you walk away."

"You want me to walk away?" he asks, hysterical. "I've seen all you've done, I support you in everything and you just push me away!?" 

This is the last straw. He has no doubt that man is as cold as Siberia.

"I don't need your company!" he stands up, pointing at him. "You've been a headache for years, an incompetent who doesn't know why you went so far!"

He feel the itch in his eyes, the melancholy knocking at his door like so many times. 

"Then why don't you fire me!?" He crosses his arms, grimacing to stop his crying. "If I'm as incompetent, a weakling, an idiot and a complete ignoramus as you say."

He feel the man's approach, you're upset, he don't understand his attitude and he just want to hit him. 

"I've done everything for you, I want to make you happy volodya." His voice is low key, being soft and delicate.

Vladimir's hands rest on both his cheeks, raising his eyes to meet his judgmental eyes. 

He is surprised when the opposite lips touch his, in the kiss of death that his last soul has claimed, which will enjoy until its last deliriums. His confusion is at its height, he does not understand the situation. 

he pushes him, feeling the emptiness of his lips. He has not yet devoured his soul, death fails this time. 

"No!" he shouts, waving his accusing hands. "Don't do this to me, Volodya! If you want to be alone, fine! I surrender." 

He doesn't listen to the president's answer, he keeps talking. 

"If you want our formality back, fine! You'll get it volodya." he approaches him, looking directly at him. "But don't forget everything I've done for you." 

He feels that twinge again, hitting him with remorse followed by guilt. Ignore those feelings, he mustn't have them. 

"I don't know what I said last night." He throws, with a wicked smile. "But it was fun that night with Surkov."

He opens his mouth, surprised as he watches the man's victorious face. He breathes, calming his emotions. 

"So, inform Surkov so that I am not driving drunks into his residences." 

He walks, quickly to the exit while leaving the man speechless. 

He smiles, feeling the illusion falling like a tower. This is over, I was right about Surkov and all that remains is to get on with his life. 

With his horrible life.

"Dima little bastard." Surkov's voice echoes, rapidly approaching. "I don't know what." 

He interrupts him, looking annoyed, he's reached his limit. 

"Don't talk to me Surkov. If you and Vladimir Vladimirovich have something there is no need to rub it in my face." 

He returns to his path, leaving the taller man confused as he heads for his office, slamming shut as he sits, stroking his temples gently. 

He's finished. 

I didn't think their long relationship would end this way, it's frustrating, I was sure I had touched Vladimir's heart, that I had touched at least some part of him. 

He was wrong, he didn't even come close. 

It is painful, to think of all he has done to make the man happy. To make a mockery of vladimir being the ideal man at every moment because, hell, who would want a man like him as president. He was not attractive, he was soft in comparison to the strong image of the man.

Look at his pen, mocking him in a painful way, like a spike hitting his heart with the reality exposed in his ink. He takes it between his fingers, remembering how excited he was at the moment he received it, pathetic. 

He feels the buzzing of his phone, listening to it so as not to fall into his little sanity. Her secretary has seen her pick up her belongings, surely it must be for her new replacement. 

"dmitry anatolievich." 

"Mr. Medvedev, I report that your secretary has been replaced by Mr. Ivan Nikolayevich." 

A boy comes in, young to be in such a deplorable place. 

"All right." 

He nods, cutting the line as he shakes hands with the young man, he's shy he can tell. 

"Mr. Medvedev." Ivan's voice is low, not at all in keeping with his appearance. "It's a pleasure to meet you." 

"Nice to meet you, Ivan." He smiles, pointing to the empty seat. "Take a seat, I think it's a good time to get to know my new secretary." 

Ivan is nice, quite a cultural man, he was surprised to learn that his age is forty, maybe some surgery has been on his face more than once. 

He knows he's from Moscow, from conservative and traditional parents. Despite his shyness, they have related perfectly. 

They would have a good friendship. 

He returns to his solitude, the sound of pencil writing on paper being the only thing heard in the big office. He must work hard if he wants to retire like all the officials. 

The documents arrive, in piles that he must sign quickly for the same day. Time flies by, advancing rapidly until the sun is at its lowest point, being overshadowed by the great night that is approaching, leaving some orange and reddish hues in the sky. Quite artistic according to him. 

He hears the door knock, warns by allowing Arkady in. His body seems tense.

"I don't know what you said but you touched a nerve in him," he says, sitting down as he exhales. 

He's still in his papers, signing. Nodding in confusion at the saying. 

"Why do you say that?" he asks.

"You know I had a meeting with him." He talks, smiling a little. "Well, when I walked in, all his papers were on the floor, the office was a mess."

Raise your eyes, has the man who's so strict about order lost his mind? 

"I don't know." He puts his pen to his mouth, biting. "He said to stay away from him, I guess happiness made him lose control."

"Happiness?." He shakes his clothes, looking at him. "Say, his look, I've never seen him like that in all these years and believe me, it wasn't happiness in his eyes."

He thinks, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. 

"Arkady." He calls, taking the pen out of his mouth. "This is over, my friendship, all ties with him." 

"I think he doesn't think so." 

He smiles, pulling out a board. A gift from Arkady on his birthday. 

"He proposed our term." He arranges the pieces, seeing the happiness in the man. "I just assume his wishes." 

"What if it's not what he wishes?" he asks, moving his white pawn on two squares.

He is not good at chess, his strategy is not good, nothing is good at it. 

He moves his knight thinking of something quite useless considering he's in front of the best player. 

"He must assume his consequence as much as I do." He waits for the opposite move, signing the last document.

"What will you do?." Move his horse, in the opposite direction. "Will you move away?."

"I don't know what to do." he says, moving his horse. "I doubt anything will work." 

He complains when his horse is eaten. It's no use playing chess. 

"He sees the unconventional." He says, taking the dark knight. "That works apparently."

He denies, moving a pawn this time. 

"Nothing works, Arkady." He smiles, looking at his fish. "I'm just making a fool of myself." 

"You just do what he wants." Move the pawn with a smile. "That's why you're the favorite." 

He turns his gaze on his opponent, puckering his temples. 

"I'm not the favorite."

"Of course you are." He takes the dark pawn and smiles. "He remembers when he first assumed, he pulled you aside to be by his side." 

He smiles, remembering that moment and the hand resting on his lower back. 

He've played enough, with an extreme defeat in which you must improve, not the best in chess you must remember. 

"I'm just saying." He says, before he says goodbye. "Don't believe everything he says, he's a KGB after all. Hiding what he feels is his job." 

Consider what he said, rumbling in his mind as he watches the man retreat. 

He looks at his pen, holding it between his fingers and then opening the window. The wind hits his face like a slap.

He throws it, with all his strength no matter where it has come from. It's a time to let go. 

The stage of forgetting has begun. 

It's been weeks, you don't know how many exactly. He's been working so hard that at one point he's returned home at four in the morning.

He does not consider commenting on what has happened in those weeks because, nothing has been interesting, he has only ignored the great majority, concentrated on his work and made some friends of whom he is surprised. 

He is a friend of Arkady's, they usually play chess when they are in their free time with a tea while they fight for some move that he himself invented. It's nice to spend time with him, he discovered that he's not as boring as he once thought. It has helped him to reflect more clearly. 

And especially now that he needs it. 

Well, what happened to Vladimir? He doesn't know, he ignored every moment he were with him, man. He avoided every time they were together and of course, his meeting that he didn't postpone in the least. He was quite formal, when he finished he would go out with the journalists and basically they didn't talk about anything but work. 

The greetings were a little strange, vladimir tightened his grip trying to stop their separation.

Ivan began to gain confidence with most of the officials, leaving a completely different man. 

He walks through the corridors, looking for Ivan about his documentation on Egypt. He remembers giving it to him a few days ago and not having it back. 

He finds it, along with a small rectangular box in his hands. 

"ivan." touches his shoulder, smiling. "I've been looking all over for you." 

He seems to be looking at a fixed point, nervous. He shakes it a little out of his trance. 

"Sorry Mr. Medvedev." "Excuse me, smiling a little." "I've been looking for this." 

He's got the little box in his hands looking at it in confusion.

"I heard there's no pen in it." He walks away, smiling. "It's a gift." 

He's grateful, noticing a heavy atmosphere as Ivan disappears. Looking everywhere to see what caused that atmosphere. 

Look at the expressionless face of Vladimir in the last corner, strangely enough the same corner that Ivan looked at so nervously.

That meeting he wrote with his flashy skin-colored pen with golden details. Ignoring the president's murderous gaze.

When he was back in his quarters he could enjoy his solitude, he really did at this time. 

He wrote optimistically, smiling unconsciously as the door slowly opened. He became discouraged so quickly when he looked into the president's blue eyes. 

"Vladimir Vladimirovich." He waved, pointing to his seat. "Please take a seat."

Look how the man approaches, it's sudden this entrance. Abrupt considering that ivan reported on every person who wanted to enter his office. 

"I thought ivan would report you." he said, arranging his desk. "Excuse the mess." 

"Your pen." 

Look at his pen, looking back at the president. 

"It's a gift." He says, smiling.

"And this is not.?" 

He is surprised when his old, smashed pen rests on his desk.

"He fell at my feet a few weeks ago," he said, fixing his tie. "I assume he wanted it back." 

"no." 

The look on vladimir's face is severe, a little confused. 

"no." 

"I... I threw it away." He says, writing with his new pen. "It was no longer working and I have this new pen." 

She sees the man's disgusting face, impressed. 

"It's very striking." He snatches it from her, looking at her with contempt." Low quality." 

He crosses his fingers, looking at him. 

"I assume you haven't come here just for a pen." 

Look at Vladimir playing with the pen, bending it a little. 

"You assume well." He opens his mouth thoughtfully. "I want a meeting with you, in my de novo ogaryovo resistance, at ten o'clock at night." 

"Sorry, sir." He apologizes, moving his feet under the desk. "I have a date with my wife, it's our anniversary." 

You can see that the man is pensive, an ICT of annoyance crosses his face. 

"It's urgent, a pity." He hits the pen gently against the edge of the wood.

He exhales, nodding at the prospect of seeing his wife. 

"If you wish, I'll be there." He says, holding out his hand. "Can you hand me my pen?"

He watches as the man hesitates, putting both hands on the thin feather, exerting enough force to split it in two. 

"I don't think so." He stands up, throwing the pen away. "It was weak." 

He sighs, nodding his head in disagreement with the man. 

"See you later, Vladimir Vladimirovich." He says goodbye, getting up from his seat.

"You shouldn't get attached to your secretary." he says, opening the door. "You don't know your purpose." 

He sits down again, almost collapsing. That was a nice pen, a very nice touch on ivan's part. 

Now that I thought about it, I hadn't seen a ring on either hand of the. I didn't know if he was married. 

He looked at his watch, it was six o'clock in the afternoon. He should leave at 9:30 if he wanted to get to his meeting with the president early. 

He called his wife, he must inform her of his failed anniversary. 

_"dima?."_

_"sveta, I have some bad news."_

Listen to a snort on the other line. 

_"Another meeting?."_

_"The president has just given me the information."_

he feels as bad as she does, she doesn't want to spend any more hours with the man. 

_"I understand, dima."_

He tries to make her smile, remembering their anniversary.

_"Remember when I asked you to marry me?"_

he smiles when she hears a laugh, it's working.

_"I remember, you were so nervous I thought you'd faint."_

They both laugh, pretty friendly.

_"I thought you were gay, dima, when we started dating all my doubts dissipated."_

He's silent, a little uncomfortable with such a statement. 

_"For God's sake, I can't believe it."_

_"It's the truth, dima."_

_"but it's wrong."_

_"I know, but it would be funny."_

He nods even though she can't look at him, of course it would be funny. 

_"How's doroféi?."_

_"He spends more time with his cat dima, remember he's going to be a father."_

Remember, a few weeks ago her cat got her neighbor's cat pregnant, they both agreed they'd get at least one cat. 

Their house would be a zoo if it kept going that way. 

Suddenly, the call is cut off. She takes a good look at her phone, seeing as it's out of battery. He had completely forgotten to charge it. 

He looks through his furniture for his charger, remembers putting it away on the second-to-last side on the left. When his phone starts to show signs of life he relaxes, going back to work, his wife will surely kill him for having stopped the call.

Your secretary's entrance signals that someone wants to enter your office.

"Mr. Medvedev, Mr. Surkov wishes to enter." 

He hears the door slam open, seeing Ivan being pushed by Surkov, with an arrogant, annoying air. 

"You little bastard." He pushes the secretary out, closing the door. "You're a clever bitch." 

He stands up, annoyed at such sayings about his person. 

"What's wrong with you?" he asks, clearly annoyed. "Ivan hasn't done anything to you, Slava." 

"I don't care about that idiot." He comes to the desk, looking at him. "I care about you asshole, you haven't let me tell you the most important thing."

He shakes his head, standing up to point at the door. 

"I demand that you withdraw." 

"You don't understand, you're really useless." He smiles, looking at his shoes. "I just came to tell you that there's nothing between me and Volodya." 

He smiles, a little ironic as he sits back down.

"You don't need to know that." he said, crossing his arms.

He pauses, looking at him. 

"There's nothing between me and Volodya either." 

"You're a serious bitch." He laughs, slapping his hands in applause. "I like you, dima." 

He nods, watching the stoic man retreat. Surkov was like that, he would insult each person until he was tired. The only person, well; two people who are not insulted by him are Arkady and vladimir. 

Look at the shattered pen, throwing the garbage at it while watching the time, it's half past eight. 

He leaves his office, looking at the empty cubicle in which ivan should be. He disappears again, perhaps he has attracted some prying eyes in the Kremlin that he was interested in to such an extent that he could not find it at any time. 

The bells of rest ring, he feels relieved as he finds ivan, talking animatedly to Arkady, something interesting must be there for the chess chief to smile at. 

He approaches, tapping ivan's shoulder as he watches him jump, he's a bit like him in some ways.

"god ivan, you're persecuted." he jokes, smiling as he drops his shoulder. 

Listen to Arkady's gentle laugh, along with the man's uncomfortable cough. He knows it's uncomfortable, he does that himself when something bothers him. 

"Dima, you'll kill Ivan if you scare him again." says Arkady, looking in one specific direction. "I doubt you'll want to attend his funeral." 

He smiles, denying it. 

"well, mr. dima is sweet enough to scare me." 

Feel Arkady's laughter, soft, as Ivan retreats, almost running as he stumbles at times. Carpets usually do that.

"He said I was adorable." He smiles, looking incredulous. "Can you believe that, Arkady?" 

"I certainly thought I was working."

He turns around, feeling the breath of Vladimir on the back of his neck. He looks at him, challenging him in some way. 

"Well, it's a break, we should have fun." He signals Arkady, inviting him to leave.

Arkady understands, slowly withdrawing as he watches the two men together.

The smile of the retiring man does not go unnoticed.

"He doesn't forget his work. Vladimir puts his hands in his pockets, swinging a little.

"I'm sorry, Vladimir Vladimirovich." Excuse me, lowering his head in repentance. "I'll go back to my work, excuse me." 

He moves forward, being stopped by his sudden hand. He looks at Vladimir, raising his eyebrow. 

"Do you need to know anything else, sir?" he asks, keeping his position so serious. 

"Just don't forget our meeting." He lets go of his arm, looking at him. "I like punctuality." 

"I know, that's why I hope I finish enough to be with my wife."

He smiles, walking to his office as he bites her lip. He must have such a convincing acting method, he could stay in this and be a recognized actor.

He laughed, imagining a headline about his political and stage career. 

"former minister dmitry medvedev joins the acting arts," he says, walking into his office as he grabs his belongings.

What nonsense that would be.

He looks out his window, noticing that Vladimir has left the Kremlin. He should do the same to get there together so he can start that meeting as soon as possible.

Wait outside for the government vehicles, it would be faster to get there if the roads were closed. He greets Arkady who looks out the windows, smiling friendly as he enters the car. 

He turns on his phone, noticing that the battery is at forty percent. He should ask for some current to vladimir so he can get in touch with his wife. 

What is going on in the man's mind? It must be a jumble of sensations ranging from the worst to some memories. Vladimir is someone who remembers, he doesn't usually forget what has marked him as a person. 

He remembers when the 2000 elections were won by Vladimir. It is sad to remember when they were celebrating and yelstin's call was answered by the man's secretary, it is something he will not forget. That's when he remembered how evil he can be.

The disappointment in Boris' voice was sad for him, the illness of his alcoholism was leading to his death and Vladimir could not even take his call. He remembers crying at some point during that party, he had been so bad. The disappointment he had had was overwhelming, thanks to Boris vladimir he had his presidency and that bothered him. 

Then the man came up to him and said: that's politics. 

Well, he would have rejected politics if he would have stayed a horrible human being. 

The sound of the bell de novo ogaryovo resounded, signaling that his sight had arrived and he was waiting to be attended to. He descends, thanking as he knocks on the door being greeted by the man. His shirt is unbuttoned and in his hand rests a glass of whiskey halfway through. 

They shake hands, entering in an uncomfortable silence.

"Vladimir Vladimirovich," he says, taking a seat on one of the sofas.

The man stands, walking slowly around the room, staring at the glass without paying attention to the man sitting.

"I." He begins, looking at his hands. "What is the reason for this meeting?"

"I shouldn't leave that Nikolayevich's approach." He looks at him cautiously. "I should end that bond." 

Has this been the big emergency, his friendship with his secretary? 

"I don't think so." His voice loses its strength but he still tries." Ivan hasn't done anything, in fact. He's allowed to call me by my nickname, dima." 

He feels vladimir's silence, something's changing in him and he knows it. 

"It's dangerous, that." He leaves his glass on the table, crossing his arms. "He has other intentions."

He gets confused, he doesn't understand how vladimir can play with him. He gets up, looking at him face to face while they're close. 

"Ivan is nice." He says, smiling. 

He closes his eyes when his hand is raised against him, feeling the slap against his cheek. Then, the man's hands close in on his shirt, bringing him closer as his lips meet.

It is a frenetic, needy and animal-like pace, moving with frenzy as his hands rest on the man's shoulders, trying to push him away but the grip is firm, powerful and authoritative. They enter his tongue with strength as he claims his mouth as his own. His hands cling to his shoulder, feeling his tears fall down his cheeks, he does not understand, he does not know what the man wants and it bothers him.

Their mouths are held together, being savored by the tears that fall delicately down the tender cheeks of dmitry. 

They separate for a moment, watching each other with completely different feelings. 

Their mind does not react, it does not find the reason why man reacts so suddenly. 

He feels the sorrow running down his body, more tears falling down his face, leaving his face reddened. 

"Why are you like this?" he says, letting go of his hands. "I don't understand you." 

Look how vladimir raises his hands, touching her face as he wipes away her tears.

His face is filled with hate, fear and pain. He doesn't want to be devoted to someone who only wants to bury his daggers against his heart. 

"Listen." He strokes his cheek, smiling lightly. "I..."

"Don't give me false excuses." He interrupts, pushing his body in front of him. "You don't love me."

He walks away, evading any approach from the man. Until he is against the wall, he has no way out. 

"You don't know dima." He takes his hands to his shirt, pulling it off. "How bad I've been." 

He denies, touching his hands. They look at each other, trying to express what they didn't achieve in so many weeks that they repressed so many emotions. 

"Say you love me." 

I had to assume he wouldn't say it, his silence must define everything. 

"I can't say it." ends the last button, looking at the pale abdomen. "It's hard."

"You just have to say it volodya." Take his hand to his chin, raising his head to look at it. "Please." 

Memories begin to emerge, stronger and stronger than the last. His thoughts about the man begin to come out, recalling moments as iconic as his provocations, subtle ones that both never took attention but now appear as the clearest thing in the world. 

Their notes, everything began this. Everything else led them to this moment, now they are face to face. Begging for love of each other in different ways, so diverse that they can be subtle. 

"I'm not a good drinker, dima," he explains, looking at him. "I have problems, like everyone else. I'm not perfect." 

"Who said I love you for your perfection?" he asks, hugging him. "You're as dirty as I am, we're both contaminated." 

Listen to the man's sigh, intensify his embrace knowing he won't get a love you in return. 

You must be very naive to think of something like that. 

"Stay with me." Vladimir kisses his neck, climbing up to his ear. "Just stay." 

He shudders, feeling the man's grave voice against his ear. He feels his legs wobble, shaking at his desire.

He nods, knowing that he has signed a pact of which his death will be the end of the contract, has accepted the hand of death, extending it before him and taking it, squeezing it to begin this waltz of despair that will lead them to their destruction in time. 

"Love me," he says, kissing her clothed shoulder. "That is all I ask of you." 

The blood on the signature is understood, making clear his rules that will bind him until the end of time. Until the sun breathes out its last end, until all are bones and dust that will spread everywhere. 

Now he is part of death, he gave himself to it, devout. 

They join their pact in a kiss, uniting their souls so corrupted that only they can fix. 

He feels the tongue of vladimir against his lips, its hardness striking against his thigh and his hands running through his body like a map. 

He opens his mouth, giving permission to feel his tongue everywhere, imprisoning his mouth while sucking out his soul.

His belt is unbuttoned, his pants fall so fast that he has not seen when they have been taken off. His underwear is ripped off, the force of vladimir is impatient and he is stripped. 

His legs are spread, he feels the pain of his punishment slightly, as a reminder of his misconduct. He trembles, feeling his limb being in his entrance, the tip mocking him, entering with force. 

He screams, closing his eyes as he approaches vladimir, his walls are opened with violence, he feels full but the feeling of tearing remains. 

"this time dima, you won't leave my side."

Look at vladimir, those blue eyes that can hold all the secrets of the universe. Which dictate who lives and dies, in which all unimaginable evil and perversity is hidden but, which show all goodness along with greed and power. 

This is the man you have fallen in love with, this cold man who will carry you on his chain until you throw him away. 

This time, death has blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, it took a lot to finish this chapter. The next one will be on fire


	11. Childhood and dreams part 1/2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God!!! I think it's pretty hot this chapter, it took not so long I think, I assume it's not that long but good. Enjoy :)

Her body was reflected in the mirror, the bites on her abdomen and chest stood out in her whitish skin. He had some scars, in his years of weight lifting he had been hit in some places he remembers fondly. 

He closed his eyes, listening to his wife yawn outside the bathroom. 

He had returned around five in the morning. Vladimir abused his body enough to remember whose it was. A little possessive according to him, but he wouldn't question it. 

It was nice to have a day off. 

"dima!"

His wife's voice along with a knock on his door stunned him, wearing his shirt to go out, finding her happy and worried at the same time. 

He didn't know the body language but he could tell his friend's mood very accurately. 

"We must talk." 

His heart started pounding, feeling the nerve running through his face. 

"What do you want to talk about?" he asked, coming down the stairs. 

"About Ilya." She followed him, sitting at the table. "It's important."

"It's our son." He smiled, having a toast. "Did something happen to him?" 

He felt the doubt from her, knew the situation, assumed what it might be and waited for it. 

"Not necessarily." He smiled, drinking his juice. "Just, it's complicated." 

"He's gay, isn't he?"

They remained silent, each thinking the opposite move. 

Svetlana took the initiative. 

"He is." She put the glass down, looking at him. "And since our suspicions were true, that boy, Mikhail grigorovich is her boyfriend." 

He nodded, this was to be expected. He assumed that sooner or later the news would happen and he had to face it without hurting his son on the way. 

"at least I know his name." he joked, knowing the anonymity of that friend.

They laughed, relieving the atmosphere that had been created between them. 

"But, you will meet him." He turned his defensive attitude. "Ilya wants us to meet the boy." 

She thought, considering how fast it was. Although, they already knew the truth, she just wanted to be confirmed.

"So you inform me that my son's boyfriend is coming to dinner." 

"I'm informing you so that you don't criticize." He pointed, opening his accusing eyes. "Ilya was afraid to tell you."

She had never done anything to make her son reluctant to know her orientation, she always supported him in every moment he wanted. 

"Why?" he bit into his apple, remembering his diet. "ilya shouldn't be afraid." 

"vladimir." 

His body tensed up a bit when he heard the name. 

"What's wrong with him?."

"You know." He took a sip of its juice. "The Kremlin is homophobic. Ilya was afraid of your reaction, he thought you'd hit him." 

He denied, hysterical at such an insinuation. He could never hit his son, he was not someone violent much less. A teddy bear, remember. 

"You know I'd never do that." Another bite, the juice slipped down his jaw.

"how's your diet going?." 

He smiled, pointing to his apple. 

"Well, not as bad as I expected." He grimaced, standing up. "It's horrible, I want something sweet."

His wife's laughter is light, soft and delicate like her; Generating confidence and comfort anywhere. 

"a day without your diet wouldn't hurt." he suggested, finishing his juice. "ilya wants to prepare the evening."

"do you need help?."

"Unfortunately not." she smiled, following her husband. "She wants a surprise for the boy as well as for us." 

It was a bit fast this time, surely ilya and svetlana have prepared this moment weeks ago. 

"Since when?

"Four weeks." he interrupted, kissing her cheek. "I'll go with ilya to the supermarket, she wants some suggestions." 

He nodded, kissing her forehead. 

"About last night, I'm sorry." 

"Don't worry, dima." He tapped her shoulder, friendly. "The president called me not to worry." 

At what point, he asks himself. Searching through his memories of the night before. 

It would be easier if it weren't for the thousands of hot, passionate memories of the two of them having sex.

He came out of those memories, it wasn't good for him right now. He must have had his best attitude and being erect wouldn't be the best thing. 

It was better to have an order if he wanted everything to go smoothly. 

When his wife came in with his son, he didn't hesitate to hug him, to put his arms around him while trying to convey all the confidence he could. 

"Son." He spoke in her ear, softly. "You mustn't think something like that, I won't let you." 

She complained a little when, without warning, she reciprocated the hug, squeezing his body. He was old, his son was full of strength and energy. 

"Thank you, thank you." he repeated, jumping slightly. "I knew you'd understand." 

He could hear his wife's laughter, it was nice to have that family atmosphere that he thought had disappeared from that house. 

"Of course." He smiled, parting. "What shall we do for dinner?"

It was an incredible day, most of the time they tried, supposedly, to cook as a family; it ended up as a pretty sweet mess.

It was nice to have his family back. 

His son was nervous, walking around in circles while he waited. 

"What if he doesn't come?" ilya moved her body anxiously, looking at her phone. "Maybe she forgot the address."

He smiled with his wife, remembering his time as a student when you were nervous about your birthday, wondering if anyone would come. He remembers crying when apparently no one would come. 

"Don't worry."Svetlana poured juice."It's just a delay."

"Maybe it's just your nerve, son." He says, getting up. "He'll be here." 

She was quite surprised when the door knocked, lightly and softly but enough to be heard by all. At least it wasn't like a failed birthday. 

She could see her son's nervousness, he was the only person she could read so well. She decided it was better to open the door, letting a thin, little boy see. 

"Here it is." The boy's voice was soft, just like some woman's.

It was ridiculous to ask such a question considering who he was, and the boy seemed to think the same thing.

"I'm sorry." He apologized, smiling. "I introduce myself sir, my name is mikhail gigorovich." 

He let it go, complaining a little about the father's name but, it wasn't time to lower the already tense atmosphere. Maybe he was wrong, he wouldn't jump to conclusions about the child's parents. 

"ilya." mikhail waved, kissing him on the lips.

Maybe that wasn't right, he thought. 

"misha." he parted him, smiling as she presented. "she's my mother, I told you, svetlana medvedeva." 

From what I could tell, Mikhail was nice, intellectual in a non-self-centered way like his high school classmates once were.

"remember grigory?." svetlana came over, tapping him on the shoulder. 

he thought, remembering the boy. 

" sveta." she scolded, smiling. " he was a bully and I doubt if we'll have any luck getting him." 

He watched as the young couple arranged the arrangements.

He focused his gaze on Mikhail, he had no such trait as a swine who could be the boy's father, too educated to be that man's son. 

"We don't know, Dima." she laughed, seeing her husband's face. "Misha, can I ask you something?" 

His face turned crimson, I couldn't believe he would ask such a thing. 

"Sure." he put a glass, sitting down. "What's wrong?" 

Everybody was in their seats, just hoping that grigory isn't the father of that creature. 

"What's your father's name?" 

He drank his juice, he'd prefer alcohol right now. 

"grigory ivanovich." 

He felt the water run down another pipe, causing an uncomfortable drowning. 

How could he be unlucky, he had hoped to get into college to get rid of such a monster but it had been impossible and now, his son was the boyfriend of the creation of this imbecile. 

"I told you so." he said, laughing as he ate.

After he had recovered, everything went on normally, strangely normal if you ask him.

They laughed when their son's childhood came to light, completely embarrassing Ilya. His red face betrayed him with such fury. 

"Really Ilya?" Mikhail laughed, stretching the plate forward.

"Of course it is." Svetlana smiled, holding her husband's hand." Ilya cried for that bear when it had to be cleaned."

It was a good memory, her son crying constantly when that brown plush bear had to be cleaned of all the dirt. It was chaos to remember that they had to clean that bear and then look at the face that slowly filled with tears. 

Mikhail's phone rang, giving an American song, I could not say the singer but the melody was good. 

"Dad?" 

His smile faded, what a bad moment. 

"Well, I just... no, Ilya can open."

She wouldn't open the doors of her house to let that bastard in just because he's her son's boyfriend. 

"Dima." His wife spoke, in a warning tone. "Go, it's cold outside."

Why so much was happening to her, she wasn't the best person in the world but, she didn't need to be living this. 

He went outside, looking for his keys while he was cursing. He could leave it and say there was no one there. He opened the door, watching his long-time bully. 

"Dima?" The man's voice was thick. 

He nodded his head, leaving a space for the animal to pass. He had to stay calm or it would explode. 

"I am," he said, closing the door. "Your son is inside." 

"I'm here for a reason, aren't I?" she laughed, tapping her opposite shoulder. "You haven't changed much, tadpole."

He moved on, leaving the man behind. Memories of his childhood while his body abused him. 

He walked in with a face of few friends as he sat next to his wife. 

"Sveta!" shouted Grigory, opening his arms.

He imitated her voice, louder and more annoying in his mind. Somewhat childish, but he could not help himself. 

"You are beautiful, the years do not pass in you." he praised, greeting each person.

"I can't say the same about you." he joked.

He grimaced, touching his food like a spoiled child, it wasn't his fault he was ruined. 

So security, the guards must do their job of watching over you and your family's lives, not opening up to every stranger who demands to enter your residence. Although, he didn't care, anything could happen and it would be taken as a black humor or just a normal one. 

"You know Dima." Grigory spoke, smiling. "I loved the evening, I'm glad to know your son is with my son." 

He nodded, resting his fist on his cheek, looking more intently at the cold food in front of him than at that animal. 

"Me too," he said, feeling his wife's discreet kick. "It will be good to meet both families."

He waited, counting the minutes; waiting for this bad moment to end. He is not spiteful, he simply has a reluctant feeling to be called Grigory Ivanovich.

Still, it wasn't so disrespectful. He spoke to his son's partner with confidence, ignoring any questions from the man who had arrived minutes earlier. 

He thanked the Orthodox Church when the guests decided to leave. The boy could be followed here, he was welcome. 

The father could wait forever if he thought he'd let what happened in his childhood pass because of him. 

"A taste of tadpole." 

"I see you grigory." he said, shaking his hand.

"You know I'm joking." He laughed, hugging the opposite body. 

He shuddered, feeling that the hatred emanating from his body could kick him to avoid reproductions like that abomination that was suffocating him at that moment. He pushed him, smiling politely as he closed the door. 

He said goodbye to his son when he begged if he could be with Mikhail, reluctantly accepting. 

In a way, the evening was excellent, except when the boy's father arrived, which was disastrous. 

He looked at the dirty dishes, he had decided to clean them himself so he could think of something else. Childhood memories are quite overwhelming when one is constantly worrying about it.

"Volodya hurts me." 

He shook his head, smiling like he's in love as he tries not to think about two of the things that torment him tonight or later, maybe. He may even hear his classmates teasing him about how stupid he is or how effeminate he looks. 

Then, the voice of vladimir in his ear saying how narrow he was appeared along with them. It was a party in his mind if he could say it. 

He waited for the hot water, he didn't want to develop any diseases. Taking the sponge he started to clean, considering when he woke up. He had been sleeping in his loneliness when he was awakened by vladimir while he communicated that he should return home. 

Things were getting settled between them. 

He yawned, feeling the tears building up in the corners of his eyes from exhaustion. Being prime minister was exhausting. 

When his hands were burning and the shining plates stopped, he dried his hands. Walking to his chamber with heavy sleep on his shoulders and body, he did not want to be awake, i just wanted to get some rest considering that tomorrow I'd be working on his routine again. 

He sighed as the sheets surrounded his body, warm hands resting on his chest, hugging him warmly. It was a good time to rest and let go.

He was in his office, organizing his papers on Ukraine and Egypt. It was strange to see his room in a more different setting. 

It was not surprising to see the door open suddenly, he was waiting for the man to arrive and had been on guard for his arrival. 

"Dima." he called, a little different this time. 

His voice was different, a little needy and strange. He looked at Vladimir, watching him come quickly, circling the desk and placing his lips against his own.

He reciprocated, letting himself be carried away by the unexpected kiss. He was surprised when vladimir's legs landed on his lap, sitting astride him, without breaking his kiss.

What did he have to do?.

He parted, looking for the air that had been torn away.

"Why so quickly?." he asked, confused. 

"I want you to take me." She kissed him again, moving her hips. "Do it."

He remained static, not knowing how to react to those words. How would he do that?.

I'd think about it as it unfolded. 

He kissed him, bringing Vladimir's body closer to him. Feeling nervous at the suggestion of a different role. 

"Don't be shy." Play with his tie, take it off. "You'll love it." 

He hesitates, feeling a slight pleasure to form from the caresses on his limb. He brings his hands to his waist, bringing it closer to his member. 

"Are you sure?" Unbelieving, he takes off his shirt, observing his reaction.

"Do you see me denying it?." 

He smiled, kissing those lips again, touching the naked torso and abdomen. Panting when they force the kiss to have more contact, when their tongues cross and intertwine. 

Touching vladimir's ass, nervous when he feels the opposite body jump. I wasn't prepared for such a moment but, I would.

Think about how to continue, kissing the neck with passion while biting hard, a slight revenge to what happened days ago. 

He puts his hands on his belt, taking it off. His heart is beating stronger than ever. 

"Get up," he says, unzipping it. 

He watches as vladimir stands up, pulling down his pants and tearing up the inside. Being completely naked. 

He wets his lips, biting them as he pounces at him, kissing, sucking and biting every inch of the exposed white skin. It was strange to hear moans from him. 

"Damn it, Dima." He gasps, sitting at the desk. "Get it over with." 

This time he doesn't hesitate, letting himself be carried away by pleasure. 

He takes off his own belt by lowering it a bit to free his limb, searching his furniture for lubricant, it would be a thrill.

Ignoring the fact that he had something like that in one of his drawers, he smeared a handful on his limb, stroking it as he got up. He looked up at Vladimir, smiling lewdly, he could remember this moment forever. 

"Do it," he said, hugging him to get attached to him. "No mercy."

He took his legs, spread them open. The emotion ran through his body sending shivers down his spine. He sighed, positioning his limb in the hole. 

"Are you sure, Volodya?" he asked again, still doubtful of this change of personality.

The answer was only a fleeting, passionate kiss. Implying that he really wanted this. 

He entered suddenly, hearing the cry of Vladimir. Feeling his hands clinging to his shirt that was still on. He waited, for a few seconds, getting used to the feeling himself, so tight and warm that he could free himself so quickly. 

"Dima." he muttered, moving his hips with some grunt. "I love you." 

He kissed him, violently as she moved.

His moans were disconcerting, they didn't know when one started and ended until they were lost again in his screams and sighs. 

"Dima!" he shouted, curving his back in an arc when they touched his prostate. "Oh, yeah, shit!"

He bit her neck, on an impulse he didn't know what to do with, burying his teeth in the white flesh while tearing the skin into a rather notorious mark. 

He pushed hard, hugging the waist, bringing it closer to him. Enjoying the warmth and excitement that ran through his body in a delicious ecstasy that stung his skin and burned it. 

Their skins came together, the grotesque sounds of their mouths as they satiated themselves from the opposite body; demanding more from every part, from every corner. 

He was about to free himself, the groans and words of vladimir were sending him to an edge that, together with the narrowness of the virgin hole, killed him with such an overwhelming and glorious feeling. 

"I love you dima." he repeated again, kissing him briefly, touching his cheeks." oh, never..

He felt his sperm come out, waking up in the darkness as the warm blankets surrounded him.

That was a dream?, he could not believe he had dreamt of Vladimir, much less being with him in a different way in every way. He blushed as his wife embraced him, moving her leg over him. 

She woke up looking at him, he could not tell his emotion, his face was hidden in the darkness like a mask. 

"Dima." His voice, drowsy, sharpened. "Why is he wet?"

He thought, rising slowly. Caressing his wife's head to put her to sleep The cloth was sticking to his limb and it was uncomfortable to feel. 

"Nothing is happening sveta." he whispered, making soft sounds. "I'll just go to the bathroom." 

He smiled when he heard her snoring, she was so beautiful and friendly, the perfect woman in every way. The trouble is, he couldn't enjoy her by his side. 

He went to the bathroom, taking a towel and clothes as he walked, thinking about his dream.

He never remembered his dreams, much less one so outrageous, Dionysian with something so strange. Why he had dreamt of such a thing, he did not understand the purpose, he doubted he had one but, he could have one if he looked between the lines. The difference is that he wouldn't. 

He dipped his body, smiling at the elusive liquid that caressed his body. Taking a relaxing breath with his muscles letting go of the stress. 

But, sadly, his mind doesn't relax, it stays active. He must see the time later, he doesn't want to be ready for work if it's four in the morning. He got dressed, thinking about grigory, it was a damn coincidence that I never expected to see him again. 

He had been very mean to him, especially when svetlana was around. Throwing his lunch away, hitting him, throwing him in the bathroom while he was saying how horrible and stupid he was. 

Tadpole. 

He smiled bitterly, that was his nickname when he was in class, he had been used to it for a while; brief and patient, they are children, they don't know what they are doing.

He thought of his adolescence, when he used to escape from grigory while running home from kissing svetlana.

It was hard, but there he was, along with the most powerful man in the world. 

He was dressed, coming out of the bathroom while looking at his watch, it had been a good bath and he was taking a long time in the shower again. Half past seven in the morning indicated that he had woken up before his alarm. 

He called his driver, waiting at the exit of his home, greeted the guard at the exit, smiling. Being positive is one of his great qualities, facing everything with a big smile despite just wanting to hit that person. 

Although today, he's not in the mood to smile and put up with being made fun of by some jerk. 

And yes, that asshole is Surkov. 

Since his friendship with Arkady began to grow closer, Surkov has been reluctant and aggressive, with more hurtful insults but he is vladislav, everything can be expected of him.

When he arrived at the Kremlin he sighed, muttering some curses for his bad mood, only wanting to beat grigory and demand his apology for so many years of humiliation and beatings. 

He walked to his office, looking at the passing officials, not knowing or distinguishing the others, there were always new people. 

"You fucking bastard!" 

He listened, close by. Surkov's voice was full of anger. 

Then, the pain of the back against the wall of made present. 

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, looking puzzled. 

"What, what's wrong with me?" Surkov's hands let go. "You're a fucking bitch!" 

He looked annoyed, he wasn't in the mood. 

"Slava, I don't know what you're thinking but..."

"Leave Arkady alone, I don't want you near him."

So that was it, jealousy. 

"I don't do that Slava and you know it." he said, waving his hands in disdain. "I think being insistent on that works."

"Since when do you talk like you know?" he pointed, threatening. "Don't get too close, you bitch.

His hand made a fist, driving it hard into his annoying face, closing his eyes when he hit meat. 

"Vladimir Vladimirovich, are you okay?." 

He opened his eyes wide, looking at Vladimir's face, red on the left side. Surkov did not have any blow, nothing. 

"Volodya!" He walked fast, pushing Surkov." God, I'm so sorry, I just... Slava did." 

"You don't have to make excuses." He stood up, looking at Surkov. "Go, now." 

He swallowed, not wanting to do anything that could make his situation worse.

"May I know why?" he asked, approaching him. "I doubt you'll throw punches because you think they don't hurt." 

He remained silent, like a child being scolded for entering dirty or for some low grade. He felt like a child, only the difference is his size and face. 

"Slava wants me to stay away from Arkady." 

Vladimir's lips rose, showing a wry smile, or perhaps annoyingly, the accuracy of that smile was lost in so many different shades.

"well, you've been with him a lot lately. "he moved his hand, bringing it closer to his cheek." i don't want any off-limits companionship."

He nodded, a little confused by those with the exaggerated jealousy. 

"We're just friends, nothing special volodya." He shuddered at the touch.

"I know." 

His lips were close, touching each other eagerly to join in one of the many times they had kissed. 

Her phone vibrated, reading her son's name. She parted from Vladimir, gently pushing him away. 

_"Ilya, is something wrong?"_

_"oh no, I'm not ilya."_

He got upset, why would grigory have his son's phone?.

_"I asked ilya for her phone, I'm sorry."_

He kept his guard up, watching vladimir with an impatient face, apparently he just wanted to smash it into the wall. 

_"I understand, what do you want?"_

_"Are you busy? I really need to talk to you."_

"Who is it?." Vladimir's voice echoed, crossing his arms. "I doubt it's important." 

"It's Ilya."

Why did he lie? I didn't know, it was a reflex he felt. 

_"I'm not busy."_

The other line laughed, a nice, sweet laugh.

_"Very good, because I'm in the cafeteria near the Kremlin."_

_"I'll see you there."_

He cut, not understanding why he had done that, he was an idiot. 

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"There's a problem with Ilya, I must go and see her." 

He parted, moving his feet quickly to escape, he knew that Vladimir was watching him leave.

The Kremlin has eyes everywhere, even ears. 

He thought about why he lied, it was contradictory and strange, maybe it was just something that came out of his mouth without thinking; it was better to make up the idea of his son than to say that the boy who bothered him in his childhood is the father of his son's boyfriend and right now he wants to talk to him. It's a complicated thing but it could be understood.

At least he did. 

He came to the cafeteria, humble. People looked at him, whispering as if he didn't exist. He walked where a tall, thin, dark-haired man was resting, looking at nothing.

He sat down in front of him, waving his hand to get his attention. 

"What did you want to see me for?" he asked, looking at his coffee.

"Oh dima." he spoke, smiling. "I'm sorry, I was just thinking."

He was upset when his diminutive was taken, he didn't have that right, at least. 

"Go to the grigory bean." He crossed his legs, moving his foot that was in the air. "I don't have much time." 

I should inform ivan that grigory would be barred from entering despite any blackmail. 

"Right, Prime Minister." He laughed, drinking his coffee. "I... I don't know how to start, I suppose it sounded better in my mind."

He smiled, nodding at that, everyone seemed better off in his mind. 

"I agree, it's much better in the mind." 

"It is." He looked into her eyes, a contrast between the blues and the dark. "You know that, from childhood." 

He was upset, he didn't need to remember his childhood. Even, a mischievous memory crossed his mind. 

"You're a faggot." grigory's voice echoed, pounding on the flesh.

His body hurt, blood ran down his face, his nose was broken and his rib was pricked. 

"Stop it, asshole!" he cried, getting up. "Leave me alone!" 

Another kick, hitting his face. 

"We had our conflicts." He interrupted, changing legs. "That's why you called me, to remember what a stupid thing to do..

"It's to ask for forgiveness." 

He raised his eyebrows, to the maximum. His feeling of surprise was different, he didn't want to show he was dying just to hear that.

"I know, I've done you a lot of harm." He looked at his hands, squeezing them. "I hurt you, I made you cry and God, I regret it."

"Don't you think it's a little late?." he suggested, touching his ring.

Her wedding ring, it was such a magical moment. 

"I grew up." He smiled, a little sad." I grew up and realized I was an idiot. I had Misha, the woman I was with, who wanted to abort it."

He opened his eyes, horrified by such an accusation. 

"I know, horrible." He drank his last drink." I refused and she gave me Misha, I raised him."

He analyzed the information, confused.

"and, although it doesn't make sense," he paused, interlocking his own fingers. "My parents were atrocious, so my attitude to you was my way of venting my feelings."

He felt bad, knowing that his bully had a hard life and maybe worse was hard. A response to the man's disgusting attitude in his childhood and adolescence. 

"But God, I regret it, Dima." He swallowed his spit. "Besides, I was..."

The door opens, death feels betrayed. Intense flash surrounds the humble room in the cafeteria, guards appear serious, inexpressive to protect the safety of the president, from death. 

"Welcome, President." The boss waves, shaking hands. "It's nice to meet you in person." 

He lowered his head, trying to keep a low profile, which was useless but, he believed inside that it could work. 

He looked at the grigory face, his eyes burning in an annoying way, he knew from experience, when he hit the other children, he used to get a look like that. 

"Prime Minister." 

He turned, looking at the president. 

"president." 

The cafeteria was silent, the sound of the coffee machine was all you could hear. Unconsciously he looked at grigory, waving his eyes out. 

He ignored her signals. 

"I'm surprised you're here," he said, walking to them.

He tossed his hair, looking for an excuse. 

"everybody leave this instant." people didn't move, they stood still. He hardened his voice. "Now!" 

Both staff and customers left the place, murmuring their theories that provoke such an encounter. 

How wrong they were, if they knew the reasons for this encounter, they would be open-mouthed while denying in an attempt to understand the reality that is in front of them. 

"Explain, now." He crossed his arms, standing near Dmitry.

He stood up, moving away from Vladimir, bringing his hands to the front.

"He's grigory." He started, nervous. "He's an acquaintance." 

"That's right." He pulled him up, taking his hands. "Is he an acquaintance for lying?" 

He closed his eyes, holding a curse. 

"How dare you lie to me?." He spat the words, annoyed.

"Don't touch him." 

They both looked, god, there was no way this would make it any better. Grigory was standing close to them as he pulled him in their direction. 

"And for your information," he smiled, proud. "Our kids are coming out." 

Their eyes opened, looking at grigory in amazement. Then looking at vladimir with guilt. 

He could feel the force with which the president was clenching his fists, he was quite upset. 

"Get out." He said, pointing to him. "I want to talk to the prime minister alone." 

He tried to stop grigory, taking his clothes or some blanket

But, he was slow and watched in horror as the two men looked at each other with hatred, so close that they could unleash blows on each other. He felt his breath shaking, his hands trembling. 

"I didn't vote for you." He looked at him, up and down. "I don't obey your orders, I'm not your puppet." 

He approached them when vladimir signaled, he knew grigory would be in danger, he had to stop all this. 

"There's no need." He separated them both, standing in the middle. "Grigory has no business here." 

He heard the door and the guards came in, his blood evaporated, leaving him in a pale state. 

"Take him away, I doubt anyone will miss him," he ordered, moving his hands to the man a little higher.

"no!" 

He stopped the guards, looking pleadingly at his companion, could not look the man's son in the eye if anything happened.

Thank God he heard her plea, squeezing her shoulder with a sweet smile. 

"I will." He released his shoulder, pushing the guards. "We will see Vladimir Vladimirovich."

The guards followed him, pushing him from time to time, praying in his mind for his sake. 

"He's brave." he said, looking at the closing door. "Guts that not everyone has, like you for example." 

He looked down, like an embarrassed dog.

"When were you planning to tell me about your son?" he asked, looking at him now.

"I didn't think it would be important." 

His voice was weak, his body was weak. He didn't dare raise his eyes. 

"I must have guessed." he said, approaching him. "Just looking at you I can see it."

He denied, pursing his lips. 

"You're such an idiot." He took it, shaking it. "A talentless good-for-nothing." 

He felt a stirring in his emotions, I couldn't describe it. 

"I'm not surprised your son is gay." She spoke up to him, talking in his ear. "She's as slutty as her father, just showing her ass to the highest bidder." 

He pushed, violent and irritated, no one would dare to question his son in front of him.

Apparently, the fangs that were pulled from the dog grew, showing them in anger. Defending his race. 

"Don't say anything about him!" he pointed, his body trembling. "I won't let you!" 

"You're a man after all." He laughed, touching his chest. "Too bad your son's a faggot like you." 

He kept silent, he was at a point that they wouldn't come back.

"Even." vladimir went on. "Must be so useless, I curse the day you ever set foot in the Kremlin." 

"I quit!" he shouted, raising his arms. "You hear me!? I quit, I'm going with my faggot son and my wife!"

"Yeah? And what are you going to do? I'll finish you off, Dima. You'll never work again." 

He noticed a slight change in Vladimir's voice, it didn't take much.

"I have enough money to live on!" he said, squeezing his hands. "You'll be happy now, won't you?"

"I won't accept that resignation." he said, his voice calmer.

"Why not!?" He moved, trying to calm down. "You'll have an efficient minister, who's not useless and can meet your needs." 

Vladimir remained silent, he would end all this.

"you will receive my resignation, the first day of the week at the first hour." 

He tried to walk, being stopped by the strong hand of man.

"Did I say you could go?." he asked, tightening his grip. "Do you think you'll get away from me?."

"I do and I will." he answered, moving his arm.

"Really?" he smiled, bringing him closer. "No one moves a step without my consent." 

"I'll be the first to do it." 

He made force, more than normal being released, looked at him tired. 

"You will never hear from me again." He bowed, walking. "See you later, Mr. President." 

The twilight was evident, with orange and red spots contrasting with the dark colors of the night. The door to the exit was heard, frightening some dogs that had sought refuge in fear. The smell of garbage invaded his nose, he deserved this retreat, his place was put from the beginning of time, next to the garbage from which he could never get out. 

His mischievous tears appeared, he raised his eyes to the sky to stop them. Then, a few drops began to touch his face, followed by an uncoordinated pattern. The light drizzle appeared. 

He would not return to the Kremlin, not today. He would be waiting for his resignation, counting the days to hand over his necklace that had been around his neck for so many years, depriving him of all freedom. 

Today, Thursday, began the countdown from which his soul returned from the clutches of death. Quite damaged and mistreated but in parts that he could repair, he had a solution. 

This would mark a before and after in his life.

And, he was aware of the risk that would be involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading, I will be working hard to continue this xd.


	12. Childhood and dreams part 2/2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. God, I think I'll kill myself for this, it's too long : 'c  
> I'm just sorry.

A car stopped in front of him, frightening him so much that he jumped, shaking his fists in a defensive attitude. 

"Hello." Grigory poked his head out, looking at him. "Are you all right?"

He relaxed, smiling a little. 

"Yeah, a few things but nothing I can't fix." 

Too bad this seemed impossible to do, he thought. 

"Shall we continue our conversation elsewhere?" 

He nodded, thinking of his cabin he bought on his prime minister's salary. He entered from behind, hiding his face when the vehicle began to move. 

The road was quiet, it was a comforting silence, he could practically sleep in security that no guard could rival. The drizzle was coming down harder, turning into big drops that hit the car. 

"I think we've arrived."

He looked up at his cabin.

"It was my first paycheck," he said, getting out of the car. "I think it's perfect to rest." 

"It is." 

He looked for his keys, opening them while the smell of wood flooded his nose, it was nice not to inform anyone about this place.

"You know, Dima, about the cafeteria." 

"Don't worry about it." He waved his hands in the air, smiling.

The two of them sat down, talking about their childhood and some moments that marked their lives. 

"I can't believe you did that."

"Of course I did." Grigory stood up, laughing. "That idiot Yuriovich deserved it." 

"You didn't have to throw him in a garbage can." He laughed, shaking his head. 

"Then... "He stopped, walking. "He walked away. " 

He grimaced, nodding his head. 

"I had to go to law school," he said, standing up. "A new life, I guess."

"You left me." 

He looked confused, coming towards him. 

"I mean, you left Sveta." He laughed, nervously covering his face. "Oh, God, I've ruined it." 

He took his hands off her, pulled them off her face and looked into her black eyes.

"What's going on?" he asked, walking up to him. 

"I don't think it's the best thing." 

By inertia he took her hands, held them together, feeling something strange between them. 

"I say you should tell me."

He saw the hesitant face, as if he were thinking of telling. 

"I like you, Dima." he stuck to him, moving their bodies against the wall. "Since I met you, God, you should see your face at that moment, you were a darling." 

He remained static, looking into her eyes as the heat crossed her face, staining her cheeks in a beautiful shade of carmine. 

"Grigory." 

"Just listen." He pleaded, without letting go of his hands. "Remember our time, the punishments of homosexuality. To be near you was to hit you, and believe me, it hurt every moment." 

So the big arms around him, feeling a different warmth, was not vladimir, those eyes were not blue, that mouth was not cruel. 

"When you left," he whispered, shaking his head against his neck." I wanted to apologize, for everything, I wanted to kiss you.

he parted him, seeing his repentant, angry face, looking both of them in the eyes. 

"When my son confessed to me that he was going out." he laughed, coming out of the embrace. "It was a shocking thing. After I found out who the boyfriend was."

It wasn't the time, he wasn't ready. It was very sweet, though. 

"Dima." He stroked his head, feeling it. "I love you, I love you. If you let me, I promise I won't let anyone do anything to you."

Those words, they weren't from who he expected. 

"Grigory." He shook, coming out of his grip. "I don't know what to say."

"You mustn't say anything." He smiled, looking for his keys. "Just... let me indulge you, it's the least I can do."

he nodded, writing her number on a note, handing it to his. 

"Here, I can't tell you my answer because I don't know it." he smiled, opening the door. "Goodbye, Grigory."

Then those lips touched her cheek, they weren't thin, they weren't cold. 

He was quiet, looking for his phone, dialing the only person who could help him. 

"Arkady." 

He waited, counting the hours when the knocks on the door said he'd arrived. When he opened the door, Arkady appeared, with a worried and excited look. 

"Tell it all, now," he said, looking around. "Does your wife know about this?"

"Yes, she says it's good for me." He said, sitting down. Arkady, I think I've done something good in my life. 

He spent an hour telling what happened, both in the cafeteria, ilya, grigory and his resignation. 

"You know he won't let you resign, right?" Arkady moved his legs, crossing them. "Anyway, this Grigory, what's he like?"

"Well, he's not bad." He said, taking a breath. "I don't know him well either."

"What are you going to do about your resignation?" 

"If I'm not allowed to resign." He thought, walking around in circles. "I'll get fired, I won't work anymore." 

"You know that won't be enough." He smiled, shaking his head to the side. "About Surkov." 

"I think he likes you." 

For the first time, it was exciting to see Arkady's burning face. 

"Don't say that." He crossed his arms, looking away. "I doubt it."

They spent a lot of time talking, looking for the answers to every question they had. 

The harmony stopped when his phone vibrated, reading the name. 

"Will you answer it?" 

He denied it, letting the phone ring as the conversation continued.

"How will you get back?" 

"Can you take me?" he asked, smiling. "Grigory drove me here and I don't have a car." 

The road was slow, he wanted to take the opportunity to continue his conversation. 

"I don't know if Slava is gay." Arkady pressed the wheel, nervous.

"It looks like it." He smiled, looking at the landscape. "Do you have feelings for him?."

"He's attractive." He said, smiling shyly. "I don't know, maybe."

He laughed at Arkady's new side, it was funny to see the shy face with lipstick adorning large parts of his cheeks. 

"Why don't you try something?" he asked, looking at his residential quarters full of guards. "You could, you know, see what's going on." 

"I'm not gonna do that, dima." He looked, smiling. "Now get out of my car before I throw you out."

he laughed, saying goodbye to him. He had been quite happy with Arkady's help, not thinking about the things that were tormenting him. 

When he entered, he heard his wife snoring, smiling as she cautiously climbed in. He had to think of something new, perhaps living in Moscow or St. Peterborough to start his life as a teacher again. 

It would be good to start teaching. 

He undressed, getting into bed while yawning. Grigory was in his mind, his face white, bringing out his dark eyes that were so sweet and pleasant, with a powerful fire that could burn you. Slowly, however, that face began to warp, its fat lips disappearing in a thin, cruel line. His eyes were blue and cold. Vladimir took over, like a virus, in his mind. The decision had been made, and he shouldn't think about being sorry because he wasn't. 

Or so he tried to think. 

It was exciting to think about grigory when he was defended from vladimir, it was like in the fairy tales when the prince defends the princess from the great dragon. He was embarrassed of course when it became known that he was the princess in distress but, he was sure to change the situation, a little. 

But he would surely change, he was willing to do it for his own good. 

He awoke, screaming the name vladimir as he touched her chest in an attempt to ease his beating heart. 

"tell me the truth, dima."

He jumped out of his bed, falling to the floor in an attempt to escape. The pain in his back made him realize that he had hit the wall. 

"What truth?" he said, rising. "There is no truth."

"So if there isn't one." He put down his book, taking off the glasses he had to look at it. "Why do you insist on not leaving it?"

He kept silent, lowering his head in shame. 

"I mean, I've never heard you talk in your sleep." He took off the sheets and got up. "And to say that you love someone who isn't me, I'm surprised." 

Well, the time had come. 

"just tell me the truth." 

He didn't think the truth would come out like that but, it would always come out in a way you never think.

"Sveta," he said, reaching out to her. "I'm sorry." 

He didn't want to see her face disappointed, it hurts his heart to see her grin cross his face. Her eyes are itchy, watery. 

"I'm sorry." He repeats, hugging her. "I'm sorry Sveta, I cheated on you." 

He pressed her against him, crying in his misery that pounces to a major pillar in his life. 

"but it's not what you think." 

"I doubt it's something I believe." Disappointment was spreading through her. "God, dima, I believed in you."

"I'm sorry." He cried louder, hiding his face. "I just, I thought he..."

He split when he knew his mistake, he shouldn't have said that. 

"Is he a man?" 

He hugged himself, searching for air in his lungs while looking at the difficult silhouette of his wife in his crying eyes. 

"Dima, is it a man?" She came up to him, touching his face. "Who is it?" 

"It's Volodya." He stammers, ashamed. "But I got what I deserved." 

He took off his shirt, revealing his scar from a deep bite. 

"He hit me." 

He burst into tears, being embraced by his wife who soothes by touching the back of his neck. 

"I am so sorry sveta, I failed you." 

"It doesn't matter." He analysed his body, looking for something. "Where did he hit you?" 

He remained silent, ashamed. 

"It's not necessary." 

"Of course it is!" she shouted, annoyed.

His wife was hardly ever upset, they certainly had a good harmony together. 

"All over the body." His voice trembled, full of shame. "But I'm done, I quit." 

"Do you want it?." 

His tears came back, with anger at how he felt. 

"I do." He said, clasping his hands. "I care about him, I want to see him happy sveta, I want to be with him." 

"Dima." Her maternal tone relaxed him. "He doesn't do the same, you know." 

He knows, he always knew. He thought that covering reality in his blanket of happiness would cause something in man. 

How wrong he was, it could never cause anything. 

"I know." He looked at her eyes, smiling a little. "Are you upset?"

"Come here," he said, holding out his arms. 

He embraced her, tightly as a problem dissipated. 

"How could I be upset?." she asked, rocking him in her arms. "You're like my brother dima, since we're friends." 

He smiled, with the salty taste of tears on his palate. 

"The condition," she said, smiling.

His smile disappeared. 

"It's not a bad thing, Dima." she laughed, pushing him gently. "I just want to know everything, to support you." 

He smiled again, beaming as they walked down the stairs for breakfast. 

It would be a long story. 

"So, you're not going to work?" she asked, already dressed. 

"No." She sat across her legs. "That increases the chances of dismissal." 

"I don't think I'll let you off so easily." she said, looking at the ceiling.

"I know." 

She looked for her phone, seeing thousands of calls from the same person. 

" He called me. " he said, checking his phone. " I left him quietly and it was the best thing, I think. " 

"How many?"

"Thirty, I think if he wants to talk to me." 

It wasn't very fast and his phone slipped out of his hands, being checked by his wife. 

"It's not good for you to see this."

"I just wanted to play," he said, playing with his fingers.

"He's calling." He accepted the call. "Vladimir Vladimirovich." 

He bit his lip, signaling to put on speakerphone. 

_"svetlana vladimirovna, i need to talk to dima."_

"he's in the bathroom." he said, quickly as he looked at the phone.

He closed his eyes, nervously. 

_"so long?"_

"Well, he's like that." He paused, adding. "You can tell he doesn't know his prime minister." 

He covered his mouth, contained his surprised cry. 

_"Listen to me, I need to talk to him."_

_"I don't think so, because of the calls, I doubt he wants to talk."_

This would become dangerous and he didn't want to put his friend in some horrible situation. 

He grimaced, indicating that he would take the phone. 

_"I'm not interested, I want to talk to him."_

He picked up the phone, slowly as he took the speakerphone off. 

_"dmitry anatolievich."_

_"dima."_

He closed his eyes, waiting for the moment. 

_"I want to see you."_

_"I think it's better this way, away."_

He looked at his wife, encouraging him with his words.

_"you can't walk away."_

_"Of course I can, when my resignation is ready I'll leave here."_

He held his breath, speaking the following. 

_"and I don't want any calls, please, you'll never contact me again."_

He hung up, smiling as the two of them embrace a euphoria that surrounds them. 

"I think we should celebrate." 

"How about making some cookies."

He thought about it, knowing what a horrible idea it was. 

"Can you make cookies?" he asked, laughing.

"No, but I have mom's recipe." He smiled, looking at the furniture.

"I'll put on some music." 

They were both in sweet, sweet harmony. The cookies were a disaster that lasted for hours, even though they had their lunch break to keep on tearing up the kitchen. They had fired the cooks to have more privacy and it was perfect. 

"it's funny." svetlana laughed, drinking water. "you'll be my gay friend."

He denied, smiling. 

"Of course I will." She laughed again, tapping her shoulder. "We'll talk about men all night." 

"We're not teenagers."

He tried the mass of his fingers, licking slowly.

"I doubt a man looks manly doing that." He pointed to a handkerchief. "You look like a kid with a dirty face."

The handkerchief wiped his face, causing laughter on both sides. 

"When did we not laugh like that?" he asked, looking at the cookies in the oven.

"Long time ago, Dima." He wiped his hands, walking. "I'll take a shower." 

He looked at the cookies and was surprised at how funny it could be. He was sure that the situation would repeat itself several times, he was even happy about that. 

It would be Saturday in a few more hours, time passes quickly when you're having fun with the right person, he was tired from laughing so much, his corners were sore. 

Tomorrow he would make his letter of resignation, everything would be ready for the first day and he could look for a house in St. Peterborough. 

His phone vibrated, showing the name Arkady. 

_"dima I'm in trouble."_

_"Arkady, what's wrong?"_

He reached into his pockets for his car keys.

_"well, it's hard to explain locked in your office, ivan let me in."_

_"why are you in my office?"_

_"Just come! Hurry up, dima."_

If arkady lost his mind looking for shelter, things were tough. 

He'd go back to the Kremlin, just to help his friend. 

He informed his wife, running to his car as he sped along. He called Ivan. 

_"ivan."_

_"Mr. Medvedev."_

Since when does ivan speak to you formally?

_"Is Arkady in my office?"_

_"He is."_

He waited for the red light, impatient. 

_"Is there anyone else?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Is it the president?"_

The light turned green, advancing again in his quest to reach the Kremlin in his speed. 

_"If he is, there is a terrible wind outside the place."_

He took the hint, getting out of the car as he ran. 

He was really doing exactly what he wanted to do, Vladimir. 

_"ivan, report that I am downstairs, waiting for arkady."_

He slipped away, waiting for the president to come out. He was patient, waited until his bones demanded a warmer place. 

The president's silhouette appeared, the best time to run to his office. 

_"ivan tell arkady to come out."_

They met, in one of the corridors as they ran out the back exit. 

"He demanded to know where you were," he said, shaking his legs nervously.

"I don't think it matters now." 

"Ivan will pay the price." He moved, uncomfortable. "It's a shame."

He nodded, taking Arkady home. 

It was pretty tense even though he didn't see it, he had a nervous breakdown just thinking he might run into him. 

Although, deep down he wanted to see him and knew it would destroy his being. 

The countdown was over, his resignation letter resting in his left hand as he walked through the halls, brave with his straight back and strong steps, he would walk out the great doors with a heroic smile. 

Who could I kid, he was dying inside and just wanted to be sucked into the earth to be spat out somewhere else, maybe in Siberia.

He waited, looking for something to stop him from knocking on that door. 

It didn't happen and he resigned himself, tapping lightly as his heart pumped blood faster. He repeated that he must not let his emotions get the better of him. 

He opens the door, looking at the president's big enough smile. He hands over the resignation form, stretching his back to be straight.

"That's it?" he asks, taking the sheet between his fingers.

"My resignation." 

He watched the grip of vladimir intensify on the sheet, his face impatient. 

"i will not accept this." he said, standing up.

"You must." He stood in his place. "Accept my resignation."

"I told you I won't." He approached with the blade in hand. "Don't be stubborn." 

That made his nerves explode. Self-control is gone. 

"Why not!?" he asked, walking away. "Find someone else!"

"I gave my answer." He managed to take her hand. "You won't leave."

He walked away, as if he had touched something hot. 

"Don't touch me again!" He raised his hands in the air. "Just get someone else!."

"If I accept your resignation." He showed her the sheet, smiling. "I will destroy you." 

"That's a risk I'll take." 

"Still, I won't accept it." With both hands he tore the blade in two." You will stay here, I will forgive you your faults at work." 

He saw his house destroyed in St Peterborough, it wasn't fair. 

"I'll have my fired." 

"You will continue to work," he said, triumphantly. "You will not leave the Kremlin." 

Resigned to his torment, he sighed, looking up at the ceiling. 

"Then change my schedule, I don't want to have any contact with you." 

"I will not." 

"Then I will do nothing." He crossed his arms in annoyance. "People will demand my retirement." 

He smiled, finding reason in his own logic. He won this battle in a certain way. 

"Good." He spat, walking to his desk. "From today your schedule will change."

He worked, hard while enjoying his delicious chocolates. You should ask where they're made, visiting the company wouldn't be bad. 

Ivan came back in, this time with the papers.

"from the president". 

I'd spend a lot of time on that paperwork thinking about Grigory. 

When everything had set by then, the sun would set as it has for centuries. This time it was different, it felt different. 

He was surprised when Arkady walked in, his eyes disoriented and almost screaming. 

"I kissed Slava!" He closed the door, throwing himself into the first chair. "Dima I'm horrible." 

At least someone else is dealing with other similar demons.

"How did it go?" he asked, putting away the papers. 

"It went very quickly," he said, smiling a little. "We were in his office and I kissed him." 

He was excited, Arkady had kissed Surkov and it was quite impressive. 

"It accepted?"

"He threw me against the wall!" He complained, hiding his face. "God forbid, I think I'm going to die."

He smiled, happy for the news. They could be a good match, just Arkady, not Surkov. 

"Those chocolates?" 

"Grigory." He took another one in his happy mouth. "He treats me well." 

"Do you like it?" 

I kept thinking it wasn't an attraction, but there was something. Honey could be. . .

"No, it's just nice," he said, reading on his computer.

"He seems like a nice guy." He said, yawning. "He has his faults." 

"Like everyone else, nobody's perfect." He looked for his keys. "He's nice, and it doesn't take away from the fact that I was a jerk when he was a kid." 

They were both tired, they'd worked twice as hard that day and it was exhausting, as punishment for disobedience. 

"Don't trust too much." he walked past him, calling for the driver. "Remember that you are under the surveillance of the president." 

"I am aware." he waited, yawning. "I won't do anything." 

"I hope so."

He gave her the last smile, getting into the vehicle. 

He sat down in his seat, looking at the messages he hadn't read. 

_"Did you like my chocolates, my little winnie?"_

_"I enjoyed them, they were delicious."_

She turned her phone down, feeling her eyes tired. 

_"Are you still working? That idiot shouldn't give you too much work."_

_"It's my job, I must do it."_

_"Not if you don't enjoy it anymore."_

He grimaced, looking at the darkness on the outskirts of the city.

_"And you do it?"_

He waited a few minutes, the answer would be quite long, he thought. 

_"I do, sometimes. Medicine is a complicated thing, dima, lives are at stake and you don't rest. It's a problem with every decision and I have to deal with the deaths that are on my back."_

_"That doesn't stop you."_

He thanked his driver when he was outside his home, reading in concentration. 

_"it doesn't because I'm passionate about it."_

_"but it might tire you out."_

He walked up the stairs, smiling. 

_"when it's like that I won't practice anymore."_

_"Since when are you so good at talking?"_

He looked for his clothes, yawning. 

_"Since you left, I concentrated on reading and finding my solution."_

_"So I was responsible?."_

He settled down on his bed, looking for his wife's warmth, smiling when his skins in different temperatures collided. 

_"For the most part, yes, you did."_

_"It's nice to know that."_

He yawns again, tired and eyes heavy, asking for a rest. 

_"I think you must be tired."_

_"I am, thank you for understanding, good night."_

I turn off his phone, hugging his wife. 

"So late?." he asked, asleep. 

"He handed me a lot of paperwork." 

He closed his eyes, hiding his face in the blonde-haired bush in front of him. The sweet smell relaxes him, leading him to the last facet of his dream, to complete darkness. 

The cold disconcerted him, looking everywhere as the people went on their way, in their authoritarian regime marked by the dictator. 

At sixteen he is a great thinker.

He is different, he can feel it in many areas, he wants the truth, to be great and recognized. A greatness that can be heard by everyone. 

He looked in the shops, watching people enjoying their tea or food. His stomach vibrated, mocking his condition at the time. He was hungry and returning home was not the time. 

"Brat." 

He turned, looking at the tall blond hair watching him, his back so straight he felt it could break in two places. 

he was struck by his eyes, so blue and icy, almost expressionless. 

"Sir?" 

"Are you hungry?." he asked, walking up to him.

He looked at him in confusion, looking for an answer. 

"No, thank you very much." 

He tried to leave, walking away. The man's strong hand was all around his arm, he was a thin boy after all.

"you will come with me." 

He didn't resist, he just followed the old man's order, by his features he should be thirty years old or maybe more. He kept his head in the air, looking at every person in distress. 

When they arrived at a rather small apartment he looked for the exit, looking pleadingly at the man. 

"Please don't do anything to me, I don't have any money now." He walked away, keeping his distance. 

"I have, I just want a favor." he approached him, taking his waist. "I'm, how should I say it?, with an erection." 

he closed her eyes, shaking off her grip when her lips touched his neck. 

"I'm a man." he said, panting. "It's not right." 

"I'm interested. You have a huge ass." 

He retained a surprised cry when he was thrown into the bed, so small and tidy. 

"I'll pay you well." 

He complained with his body on top of him, it was heavy and strong. He felt self-conscious in the presence of the opposite. 

"I don't want to." He moved, trying to get up. 

"It's not something to want." 

He shouted when his clothes were torn off suddenly, shattering them. 

"it will be quick, unless you want to suffer." 

He denied, turning his back to think about what a woman would do at that moment. 

"Lower your head and raise your ass," he ordered, stroking her shoulder. 

His heart was pounding, the nerve in his body was evident. 

He moved uncomfortably when a liquid ran into his lower area, then he could not hold back a scream when a finger, so large, entered smoothly into him. The sensation was strange, and to know that he would do that to a stranger for money was dishonorable. 

"Do you like it?" he asked, laughing. "My finger is sucked out by you, I must say." 

"It's... strange." Doubtful he spoke, against the sheets. "It hurts." 

He closed his eyes suddenly when he went much deeper, touching a different place he didn't think he had. His cheeks were burning and his heart wanted to get out of his chest. 

He squeezed the sheets, feeling his limb slowly filling with blood. She could not believe she was reacting.

Especially when something so fast was happening. 

He groaned as a second finger entered, moving in a circle to punish him by going in so hard that it drew gasps and moans from his throat. 

"I like your submission." he spoke, pleased.

His face went up in flames, smiling inernetly as his ass was raised. He brought his hand to his limb, working it. 

He felt the loneliness when those fingers came out of his inside, a different emptiness. 

He waited for a few moments, knowing what would happen but not yet. He waved his ass, as if to encourage it. Perhaps, he was eager. 

He did not feel it when he entered, it was only a burning that he could not bear until his walls tightened inside to feel a tear. He screamed, trying to ease the pain, cursing as he continued to work his limb. With his legs shaking. 

"Don't do it."Hardly spoke, complaining. "It's big."

"Why not, you enjoy it I can see, you hungry brat."

He watched as the large hands positioned themselves at his sides. Feeling the itch as their skins came together. 

He gasped and groaned as he began to move, exploring his insides in a violent manner that he felt might be shattering, even feeling that he might be bleeding right now. 

His legs wavered, shaking. His limb was still erect and he just wanted to let go. 

"Come on, brat." His thick, lustful voice encouraged him. "You're so tight."

He groaned when his limb was deep enough to touch that sweet spot. He removed his hand, absorbed when pleasure began to appear, blurring his vision. 

The sound of applause embarrassed him, knowing the causes of that sound anyone would do. 

It was close enough, so close. 

The big hands, those hands that he was beginning to adore, clung to his limb, pumping quickly as the other hand pressed on his right nipple.

She despaired, it was too much pleasure for someone so small. He screamed, shaking as his butt on top moved along with the onslaught, in a fast and strong rhythm. 

"No, it's too much! Ah!" he shouted, embarrassed as the blood rushed down his legs. "Oh, it's too much! Please!" 

The man continued to torment him, going harder and stronger this time. He shouted louder, squeezing the sheets.

"Goddamn it, stop! No! Oh!"

Then his hand that pressed on his nipple disappeared, not knowing where it went. 

A bag surrounded his head, preventing him from breathing. His lunges were quicker, his hand was harder as he pressed on the tip. 

He shook himself, feeling the bag squeeze his neck, his breathing was speeding up and the air was thin, his mind fading with the impending orgasm. He felt like he was going to die. 

Then he woke up, touching his neck and caressing it. It was being annoying to remember that kind of dream, so strange and confusing.

There he knew it would be difficult to change his feelings, but he would at least be able to stop something. Softening his emotions so he wouldn't have a fit.

It would be a challenge, but he would accept it with his head held high. 

And the days went by, each time his reluctant attitude to the place became evident, his serious face provoked speculation in the media and among his peers. Except for Arkady, he knew the situation. 

And grigory, grigory god gave a different meaning to his life, he was nice, kind and pretty with it. He felt that she might be falling in love with him but she dismissed him at times. 

He read the computer in his office with the headline so big he couldn't ignore it. 

**_"DMITRY MEDVEDEV, PRIME MINISTER, FOR THE FIRST TIME DOES HIS JOB."_ **

How yellowish, she thought. Smiling when, commonly, his phone vibrated in a message. 

_"Can you stop asking about my job?"_

He smiled. He had become obsessed with grigory's work, it was interesting to have a doctor as a friend or something more than a friend.

_"no, it's interesting."_

He sent an emoji with a face sticking out his tongue, he could be immature with it. 

_"I like you to be like that, it's like remembering the old days."_

_"like you?."_

He laughed, signing a document awaiting the order for a new schedule. 

_"Very nice, what do you want to know?."_

_"What was it like not to save someone?._

He always wanted to ask that, he hadn't had the confidence to do it but now he did, now they could talk about anything. 

_"It was hard, I remember crying about it. It's a human life after all, he has a family, people who love him."_

_"but you keep working."_

_"I do and I always try not to fail, I took my oath to defend life at any cost."_

It was exciting to see so much passion in a profession, I knew such selfless doctors but grigory was different, in every way. 

_"I like it when you talk like that."_

_"I do? You're a sweet winnie. I must talk to my boss, don't forget I love you."_

It was sad not to be able to say the same thing. 

_"I won't, just don't say it all the time."_

_"I will until I can, that's reality."_

He didn't answer, knowing that grigory's boss would be waiting to talk to him. His vacation was almost over and he was only days away from work. 

The door opened, with Ivan's body coming in with a smile. 

"It's time for the pictures," he said, dancing. 

He must have a girlfriend, he thought, standing up. He arranged his clothes, walking. He would see Vladimir again and he was a little nervous, he hadn't seen the man in weeks, months. 

"O Prime Minister." 

The cameras came on, so fast I didn't understand how it was possible to be so fast. It positioned, greeting Lavrov, Serguei, Surkov, Arkady. He stopped for a moment when he was in front of Vladimir. 

"President." 

"dima." 

He opened his eyes, a little surprised as he returned to his normal, unmoved face. They shake hands, harder than they should, with something different.

It was an atmosphere I couldn't describe, so tense yet light. 

"It's time for the pictures." Surkov came out of the discomfort, pushing him. 

He stayed with Arkady, having a friendly conversation. 

"I admit, kissing Slava was the best." 

"I knew they would have something."

He was happy for them, they were gooey when they were together, they were in fact, lovers. He could see them in the halls running around like teenagers while they were kissing. 

"Prime Minister, Prime Minister!" A cameraman spoke, smiling. "A picture with the president!" 

I wasn't ready, I wasn't going to do it. 

Their bodies were together, they were so close but separated at the same time. 

When the cameras were about to press their buttons he bent down, taking the knot out of his shoes. 

The sound of disappointment from the people was pleasant, watching them retreat thanks to the guards for the time they had left. He smiled to himself, not wanting to prove that he was back to his usual weak self.

He walked, looking for his phone as he left. He smiles at ivan as he sits at his secretary's desk, with a box of chocolates he's become addicted to. 

"are they for me?" he asked, pointing. 

"Do you think they're for me?" he laughed, handing it to he. "Of course they're for you." 

He took them by entering his office. He was confused when the door didn't close, the sound of the click against the door didn't happen. He turned around, looking at Vladimir. 

"What can I do for you?" 

"Whose chocolates are those?" 

He walked away, to his desk. 

"It shouldn't matter, should it?." 

"Whose are they?."

Even though he was really intimidated, he wouldn't let him do it.

"'Grigory, is there a problem?." He said, annoyed. 

"You forget who you are?." 

His fingers weren't strong, the box came out of his hands so fast he didn't have time to react. 

"They were rich." He said, walking into the trash.

"I don't care." He took it, threw it against the wall. "You forget our story?."

His face hit the wall, feeling the hand of Vladimir on his ass, touching him. 

"You forget your first time with me?." He said, biting his ear. "You forget who feeds you?." 

He shuddered when his fingers invaded his hole, rolling him over. 

"You're nobody." He kissed her neck, licking it. "You can't do without me." 

He shook hard enough when his phone vibrated on his call, stopping paying attention to see the name grigory. 

_"dima, how about going out today?"_

_"today?"_

He pulled up his pants, they were a little low and he didn't want to provoke the man. 

_"Yes, today, to enjoy my last days."_

_"I'd love to, what time?."_

_"When you get off work, I'll be waiting for you."_

He looked at Vladimir, with some victory. 

_"All right, see you, love."_

He cut, quick as he looked at vladimir's annoyed face. 

"Then." he said, with his low voice. "You left me?"

"You can't leave something that was never yours." He stepped out of the wall, walking to his desk.

"I marked you." He smiled, triumphant. "That will never come out." 

"It won't." He moved his new pen, black and gold. "But there will be someone else who will." 

He heard the door close, so loudly that the windows buzzed. It had been exciting, spectacular and so glorious a moment. I was forgetting and that was good. 

I'd be happy, or so I hoped. 

He liked to know that he would have a date at the end of his work.

A dinner, almost romantic. 

He sent his work without delay, his papers up to date to leave early, he wanted to enjoy with grigory his vacation hours that he would have. 

Even so, feeling observed was important, it made his personality change so as not to give signs of anything else. 

He stretched out, smiling when he was outside grigory's house. Time passed so quickly that he didn't take anything into account until that moment. He knocked, hoping to see the host of the evening. 

"Winnie!" he exclaimed, smiling as he kissed the cheek. "You're early." 

"I told you so."

They came in, sitting on the couch while they talk. 

"What did your boss say to you?" he asked, curious. 

"Curious bear." He said, throwing his phone on the table. "It's for scheduling attendance and hours." 

"You're a cardiologist, right?." 

He smiled, congratulating himself for remembering something that was said so many weeks ago. 

"I am." He turned on the radio, something romantic in the background. "My favorite old man will come."

"Is he?" he asked, approaching him.

"Yes, it's lonely and I feel sorry for him." He said, standing up. "Too bad you don't enjoy your grandparents." 

He watched grigory leave, got up and was curious when a delicious aroma came from the kitchen. 

"It is." He landed on the frame, smelling. "What is it?." 

"It has a strange name." He laughed, saying something in French. "When I went to France they taught me this." 

They sat down, he devouring everything in his path while looking embarrassed at his companion. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Don't worry." He drank his wine. "You're hungry, I understand."

He felt her hand against his, in a tender, light grip. They stayed that way until they finished, in a pleasant, romantic silence. They went back to the couch, talking about their work.

"Winnie." He called, being so close. "May I kiss you?" 

Her lips were close, the doubt so strong she was about to refuse but, she just nodded, feeling how sweet she was. 

The wine product sweetened the kiss, in a swirl of tender emotions. There was no malice, no lust, just love and affection. 

The hand of grigory touched his thigh, leaping quickly. 

"I'm sorry." he said, parting. "I'm not ready." 

"I'm not pushing you, Winnie." He kissed her forehead. "It'll pass when it passes." 

He kissed her cheek, smiling. 

"Do you want to sleep with me at least?" he suggested, walking. "You're close to your work, it's a good idea, I think." 

He thought, finding it a good idea. 

"I can sleep on the couch." He smiled, getting up. "It's comfortable." 

"Of course not." He denied, taking her hand.

He led him into a room, the largest you can imagine. 

"Sleep with me." He took off his shirt, lying down. "We shouldn't have sex to sleep together." 

"I thought we did." he muttered, knowing he could never be with Vladimir.

He looked at grigory's torso, worked but thin. Attractive to him I should say.

"I'm not like that." He knocked beside her, smiling. "Just come to sleep, that's all." 

He waited a few seconds, taking off his clothes until he was in his underwear. 

"I have some unused shirts." He pointed to his dirty clothes. "They're there. 

He went over, pulling out a black one while feeling the male scent of grigory inside his nose. She's sleeping with a man, for the first time. 

"Do you like black?" 

he sat down, looking at him. 

"No, it's just easy to clean." he said, hugging him. "I'm a doctor, I don't have much time." 

He moved uncomfortably at first but, the man's slow heartbeat relaxed him, it was so soft that he was put to sleep so quickly. 

"I love you dima." he whispered in his ear.

Yawn, nodding. It stirs his heart, the pieces moving together so slowly but steadily. Those shows of affection have made him, repair his heart that someone so cruel has broken it. 

"I don't know." 

He turned around, hiding in his neck, hugging him. It was so comforting to be with him, a feeling of protection that could calm him from anything. 

Even from vladimir. 

They were silent, hugging, transmitting their warmth. Yawn, huddled in the doctor's arms. He knows he could change his life, in a good way. 

She relaxed even more when he caressed the back of her neck, in a massage that took away her stress from work. 

"You're so cute." 

He pretended to be asleep, listening. 

"I don't understand how someone wouldn't want to sleep with you." He continued in his prayer, softly. "I promise to be with you if you don't want me, I don't want to force anything." 

He let himself go, listening to the man's tender words praising his intellect and skill; his personality, his smile and his being.

He felt wanted, loved. 

And so he slept, in the arms of the man who gave him his world. Who protected him from death and was ready to bring him out of his mire of death and misery and back into the light. 

A pity to be so broken inside. 

"winnie, baby." 

He heard from afar, he didn't want to go back. 

"come on, honey, wake up." 

He opened his eyes, looking at the sweet black eyes in front of him. 

"you must go to work." 

He complained, getting out of bed while dressing, he'll take a shower when he gets back to his wife.

"Why don't you take a shower." 

"I'm late." 

He kissed grigory's forehead, running out of the house. He greeted his driver, rushing in as he greeted the doctor through the window. 

It's an idiot to think he can see it, the windows are tinted. 

Wait, happy to have had such a relaxing dream, I have never enjoyed a dream so much.

It was that guy whose body could feel rejuvenated, powerful enough to face everything that came his way during the day.

He was alone, his sword held high as he walked through the gates of hell to slay the devil who reigned in his kingdom of evil and hardship. He keeps coming down, the twelve stages of hell in front of him. 

Suddenly, the scene changes, the rocks of hell are golden corridors, his armor and sword is his suit and papers. He is in his office, walking to work again as a robot programmed to obey any order. 

Ivan's knock at the door takes him out of his imagination and into reality. A bouquet of flowers, such beautiful white lilies, his favorite in fact. 

"Of grigory?." he asks, confused.

He doesn't remember telling him that lilies were his favorite. 

"I don't know." He shrugged his shoulders. "Anonymous." 

He took them, thinking about the ownership of the flowers. Only two people knew his favorite flowers.

Svetlana was ruled out, he doesn't think she'd give him flowers. Arkady's hesitant, unless he's joking, but he's reluctant to be humorous. 

He wakes up, annoyed knowing the recipient of the flowers. How did he know her flowers, he doesn't know, his security dogs. 

He throws them away, in one of the corridors that the garbage is decorated with golden touches. Arkady passes by, looking at him. 

"You threw them away." 

"Were they yours?" he walks in with him, apologizing. "I'm sorry, I thought they were..."

"You're right." He smiled, returning to his seriousness. "How was your dinner?"

He doesn't remember saying he'd have dinner with grigory, in fact, he doesn't remember talking to anyone yesterday. 

"How do you know?." 

"He walked into slava's office." He said, smiling. He started saying that you left him and were going out with grigory. Then, he looked at me and was silent." 

It was impossible for vladimir to be detailed, he was already far enough away from his mind but in his heart, in his heart he was still so rooted in it that he did a little illusion that disappeared as fast as he arrived. It was just something to fall back on, it wasn't meant well. He wanted his dog to crawl to him and ask for his collar to sit next to him. 

"I don't think he'll go through with it." 

He turned to look at the lilies, they were nice but they were stained by the owner. A body was next to the flowers, vladimir was looking at it, with his blue eyes of a shade he couldn't understand, he hadn't seen those eyes in a long time. 

And god, how wrong I was thinking that the lilies would be the last.

In the following days, notes among the documents appeared, with vladimir's calligraphy. He didn't bother to read them, he just put them aside to go back to his work. 

This time, it was different. 

Used to the notes he waited for his documents but they did not arrive, only a sheet full of vladimir's words were in front of him. It was enough, he did not want to be forced to the man. His necklace was already cut and he didn't want to go back.

He stood up, crumpling the sheet as he walked out of his office, knowing that the president used to walk the halls at that time. He found him, at the other end of the corridor with his empty look and haughty walk. With that limp and determination he always wanted to have at some point in his life. 

"dima." 

He was tired of his nickname coming from those lips. 

He threw the note away, in front of him, looking at him annoyed. 

"I don't want your notes." He pointed at him, accusing him. "You must know nothing about me and I must know nothing about you." 

"So you prefer that useless." He crossed his arms. "Just read the note." 

He denied, stepping on the note in his fury. 

"Why don't you leave me!?" His tone was dangerous, annoying. "Go to someone else." 

"dima." 

His eyes burst open, the president's hands rested on his neck bringing him closer to join his lips. No, he shouldn't be happy about that, his heart shouldn't have an illusion on someone who wouldn't change.

He pushes it, being violent to the man for the first time. 

"Don't ever kiss me again." 

"You can't deny that you like it." he said, smiling.

He wouldn't lower his defenses that he had so boldly created, he wouldn't fall for the games this time. 

"I don't." He said, looking for a punch line. "Anyway, grigory gives me better kisses." 

"You know better than that." He goes around, touching his shoulder. "You still love me." 

He stretches out his sword, the devil is in front of him, with his smile enough and attractive. Seducing with the aim of dragging his prey into his jaws. 

"grigory loves me." he said, taking the note to throw it away. "really, he cares for me and I think it's time to give him my body."

I wasn't serious, I just wanted to see the man's reaction. And he did, his eyes widened in fury and his teeth clenched so tightly. He didn't back down as he saw his body coming like darkness. 

"What are you going to do?." he says, crossing his arms. "Are you going to hit me?."

"Dima." He paused, controlling himself. Just read the damn letter." 

"I won't." He turns around, walking.

Though curiosity crosses his mind he won't back down, he goes on his way, stoic as before. His new attitude gave him a respect he didn't have before, the media praised him and the networks were nice, not his refuted sayings.

When he arrived at his office he called Arkady, demanding a favor. 

He smiled when he saw the grumpy face with the crumpled note in hand, with notable displeasure it was delivered into his hands. 

"Thank you very much." 

"You should read it now." He said, walking. "I saw him in his office, very concentrated, writing." 

He nodded, arranging the note to make it easier to read, it was a whole page, quite detailed. 

"Dima, I must think I'm losing my fucking mind to do this. It's a waste of time that I'm aware I'm doing, I think I've lost you.

How can I start, I'm not good at talking about my feelings and you know that, dima, I'm not like you, so expressive and happy that it makes a great contrast to my already stained soul. I was a spy, remember? I did many horrible things and I still do. 

But you, you are different. Naive in politics with a soul so immaculate that I always tried to stink with my bitterness. I tried to push you away, to push you away because to be with me is death but you decided for me, you were by my side so faithful. 

And now, you've changed. You've left me for an idiot who doesn't know you, I don't know everything about you. Every part, every curve, even your insides. God willing, you can't forget when I took you. It was such a spectacular moment, your submission so delicious. But, now you're not like that, the theories in the Kremlin claim to have changed you. They haven't, but I can't help but remember seeing you smiling in the corridors, being scared by my presence or simply jealous of Slava.

I hope you'll read this. Although you're reluctant to me, but I hope you do. 

I would have liked to see the lilies in your office."

He walked away, staring in surprise at the president's judgmental painting. His heart stirred, demanding to see the man. 

It was amazing to think how long it took her to do this alone.

It was a feeling of tenderness and affection, she knew she wasn't supposed to feel anything. That it was just another trap but she couldn't resist that. 

After a long time cried, for his love that hurt so much in his mind and heart. The desire to go to embrace the president was strong, hugging and not let go until the guards removed to kill him but did not. He stayed in his office, with his eyes swollen and red. 

He was confused, two parts of him wanted two completely different people. 

Grigory was so cute, attentive and detail-oriented that he could bring out smiles and laughter. He made him stand on clouds full of candy.

Vladimir was the opposite, he made him cry, annoyed, humiliated and among many other bad things. But at times he was so happy with him, it was like being in hell with comfort. 

So, which one to choose? I didn't know, I was at a crossroads that I couldn't find a way to solve. Not without help. 

His wife could be a great help, she was the only person who knew the situation so well. He didn't want to bother Arkady, he was happy enough with his lover that disturbing that happiness made him bitter.

He called his wife, waiting patiently while he looked at the painting of the president. 

_"dima?."_

_"sveta, help me."_

Most likely, he gave his wife a heart attack, but he was at a point where he didn't know who to turn to. 

_"What's wrong? Did he do something to you? Should I go to the Kremlin?"_

_"I don't know who to be with."_

It was surreal, asking his wife for an idea about who to be with was different, they were friends. The love they once had went so fast to make way for their impending friendship. They would help each other until their breathing stopped, when the sun stopped giving its light to nullify every ray of hope in humanity. 

"What about them?"

"I love them, both of them." He felt his eyes sting. "I don't want to hurt them." 

"You'll hurt one." He tightened his grip, looking at him. "No doubt you will." 

He nodded, knowing it would happen. Why was it so hard to decide? He just had to choose for his sake, mentally and lovingly. 

"Who should I choose?." he asks, in despair. "What do you say?."

"I shouldn't decide myself." He smiled, softly. "These are your decisions, Dima. I'll support them." 

He embraces her, grateful to have a wonderful person by his side. 

"Alone." He paused, looking serious. "II hope you'll read this. Although you're reluctant to me, but I hope you do. 

I would have liked to see the lilies in your office."

He walked away, staring in surprise at the president's judgmental painting. His heart stirred, demanding to see the man. 

It was amazing to think how long it took her to do this alone. 

It was a feeling of tenderness and affection, she knew she wasn't supposed to feel anything. That it was just another trap but she couldn't resist that. 

After a long time cried, for his love that hurt so much in his mind and heart. The desire to go to embrace the president was strong, hugging and not let go until the guards removed to kill him but did not. He stayed in his office, with his eyes swollen and red. 

He was confused, two parts of him wanted two completely different people. 

Grigory was so cute, attentive and detail-oriented that he could bring out smiles and laughter. He made him stand on clouds full of candy.

Vladimir was the opposite, he made him cry, annoyed, humiliated and among many other bad things. But at times he was so happy with him, it was like being in hell with comfort. 

So, which one to choose? I didn't know, I was at a crossroads that I couldn't find a way to solve. Not without help. 

His wife could be a great help, she was the only person who knew the situation so well. He didn't want to bother Arkady, he was happy enough with his lover that disturbing that happiness made him bitter.

He called his wife, waiting patiently while he looked at the painting of the president. 

"dima?."

"sveta, help me." 

Most likely, he gave his wife a heart attack, but he was at a point where he didn't know who to turn to. 

"What's wrong? Did he do something to you? Should I go to the Kremlin?"

"I don't know who to be with."

It was surreal, asking his wife for an idea about who to be with was different, they were friends. The love they once had went so fast to make way for their impending friendship. They would help each other until their breathing stopped, when the sun stopped giving its light to nullify every ray of hope in humanity. 

"What about them?"

"I love them, both of them." He felt his eyes sting. "I don't want to hurt them." 

"You'll hurt one." He tightened his grip, looking at him. "No doubt you will." 

He nodded, knowing it would happen. Why was it so hard to decide? He just had to choose for his sake, mentally and lovingly. 

"Who should I choose?." he asks, in despair. "What do you say?."

"I shouldn't decide myself." He smiled, softly. "These are your decisions, Dima. I'll support them." 

He embraces her, grateful to have a wonderful person by his side. 

"Alone." He paused, looking serious. "I don't want to see you crying over that decision." don't want to see you crying over that decision."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading, I had a lot of trouble with the internet and God, it was horrible.   
> ಠ_ಠ


	13. Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God this is very short, considering the previous chapter.  
> But, why, I think I want to save the best for him at the end

The flowers with time wither, they become something so disgusting when in her youth she was so beautiful with her beautiful petals that radiated a happiness.

That was the case with him, he was a flower, a lily that was slowly withering as a result of his work.

He was so sorry for that, the things he had done, the people he had deceived but, it was not time for regrets, not even when he was at a point where there was no return, he was already so into the world of politics that he would not be a normal human being again.

But grigory, he didn't deserve to be with someone so good despite his tainted past. He had improved, he had changed for the better. 

He had gotten himself into the filthy life he leads now.

Though grigory is willing to take it out, to clean it up on his nights when his world is torn to such tiny pieces but he seeks those pieces to bring them together and give him so much love that he feels like a child again.

He sneezes, he has been sick since he was outside in the rain, he hadn't taken care of his cold much and his wife's complaints about it were so constant. He was fine, he just had to take some medicine and he would be revitalized. 

The pain in his head was severe, it was throbbing and the massages had no effect. His forehead was boiling and he just wanted to sign his papers until his hands bled in their exhaustion. 

His wife's name appeared on his phone, something more to his new problems. 

_"Dima, did you take your pills?"_

_"I've already told you I won't, I'm fine."_

_"You're so stubborn, when you're dying remember my words."_

He smiled, complaining as he did so when his mind jerked, throbbing. 

_"I just have to rest is all sveta, it's nothing I can't handle."_

He cut, looking at the illuminated screen that towards his brain burst into agonizing pain. 

He looked up at the ceiling, looking for the answers to his questions right now. 

He felt trapped, locked in a place so small that his hysteria began to emerge. He's at the bottom of the sea, with a chain around his feet as he struggles to surface. Bubbles are popping up around him, giving signs that his life is on its most empty plane of the soul and that there are only seconds left before the end of his body in life. 

But, he's pulled out of the water. The sand touching his body in something so strange The darkness remains, there is no light anywhere. The sounds of the surroundings are deafening; wild animals surrounding him ready to be devoured, their skin torn apart and blood splashed on his face by the violent way his life disappears. 

"When you feel that your life is not happy, come with me." 

Grigory's words come to mind, with a loving smile, looking at a luminescence in the distance that encourages him to come closer. The sand falls from his body, his feet feel relaxed by the strange touch of the sand.

The sand disappears, the flash that was in its distance fades away like a dead star in its saddest moments. His body feels trapped, he is in his room as a child, with his teddy bear in his arms holding him as his protector. 

Something evil is in his room, moving delicately so as not to arouse suspicion. On his black body as a camouflage so as not to be seen. He suppresses a moan, the monster must not know he is awake.

In the corner he lies there, he knows he's there, he can't see it but he can feel it. That evil entity that thanks to the moon can have a humanoid form, with basins that stick out of its face and its anorexic body so big that it reaches the ceiling of its room. It approaches him, without taking its eyes off, they are so close; the moans of the beast are strong and its skeletal hand rushes towards him to touch a lock of his hair. 

He returns to his office, opens his eyes in fear as he touches his face. She is frightened when she is sweaty. She looks for someone around her, she had felt a presence at some point. She remembers to go to Arkady's office to discuss the issues of the moment. 

She gets up, staggering as she walks out. Some memories appear in his mind, light as ghosts, which then disappear as soon as they arrive. He walks out, smiling at Ivan who is staying focused on his papers. He walks to Arkady's office, not as far away as expected. Just two stairs down in a different style from his offices. They are less elegant but they represent what each one is. A hierarchy of which Vladimir is the boss. 

"dima." Arkady stands up, shaking his hands. "Are you okay?"

"Of course, do I look bad?" he jokes, sitting down. "What do you want to talk about?" 

They spent half an hour talking about Egypt, about the visit they'd have at the sphinx and how they could get a settlement in. 

Then the image of the pyramids comes up. 

You can feel the sandstorm hitting your face with a subtle sense of antiquity, of history at its best. The incessant heat of the sun bothers you, your body sweats and you feel the need to take off your clothes. He burns, bristles and melts, watching his skin begin to become liquid and spread blood. Leaving his muscle and nerve exposed throughout his anatomy. 

He returns to his reality, looking at Arkady. He touches his body, frightened that everything is in order. 

"You're not well," he says, holding his phone. "I'll call your wife." 

He denied it, getting up.

"I'm fine." He staggers, smiling. "I just need to rest, that's all." 

He escapes from the office, walking slowly. He holds on to the walls as he looks into the distance at deformed people walking at him, with their fancy hands and empty eyes staring at him. He turns around, walking down the stairs retaining the nauseous feeling that comes from his chest and is held in his throat so tightly. 

He glances back, watching the humanoid creatures running around the walls like animals, rotating their heads as they show their sharp teeth. 

He stumbles over their feet, not falling, thanks to the wall beside him. Her legs are weak, she can't walk properly and her mind starts to explode. 

He's about to arrive at his office, Ivan looks at him worried. He hears the sobbing of the demons on his back coming in hard as he falls to the floor. He crawls, his legs are no longer good. 

The adrenaline runs through his veins, the atmosphere in his office changes in a forest so dark that he cannot see his own body.

Dark clouds surround the moon in its darkness. Drops and thunders fall over the place, frightening him in his phobia about the loud noises of nature. He complains, falling when his attempt to stand was in vain. He hits himself with something hard, leaving his office in sight which is no longer a horrible, dark forest. 

He denies, complaining as he holds his head against his two hands. None of this is real, he must regain his sanity or he will be taken in his illusions to dangerous places. 

He closes and opens his eyes quickly, regaining his sense of sight to see his desk beside him. With his arms he lifts himself up, the years of weights still manage to lift his body so heavy. He reaches for his chair, stretching his body backwards. His head feels heavy, like an anchor that just wants to reach the ground. 

Surely Arkady must be calling his wife. 

A smile crosses his lips, people around him care about him and only want the best.

He must remember to thank all those people. 

Find his phone, getting his wife into the Kremlin will wreak havoc on his work. 

The numbers look atrophied, deformed in their attempt to focus. He turns off his phone, resting his forehead against the desk. Enjoying the coldness of the wood, relieving his headache for a few seconds.

He thinks about these images, their meaning, and can only find one answer. He's sick enough that his mind can create those scenarios. 

The door creaks. His mind comes back with new scenarios, the silhouette of a tall, thin man walking to him appears, the office changes again in a rocky, hot environment. Misery can be felt, fear and hatred sprouting from every stone in the place. The need to have grigory by his side becomes strong, then, he sees it. Reality comes back to her mind as she lets grigory into her office. 

He smiles, his heart feels determined.

His body rises, in a miracle without falling. Throwing himself into the doctor's body. He hugs him, kissing his cheek. 

"grigory." he says, purring in his neck. "I missed you." 

"So you prefer that idiot." 

His eyes open wide. The image of grigory fades into a mist to reveal the president, with his face in a new light. 

Was he worried?. His dilated pupils and drooping eyebrows gave him that strange look. 

"vladimir, I'm sorry I..." his mind began to spin, confusing him. 

"So you're with that stupid guy." He said, "Don't move. He doesn't belong with you." 

He shakes his head in denial, he doesn't want to have this discussion. His body feels weak again. 

"You don't know him." He talks, smiling.

His gaze crystallizes when the president's lips meet his, this must not happen. Vladimir's tongue enters his mouth, causing a tremor in his knees that makes him fall. 

This must not happen, his mind repeats.

His gaze falls to the ground, covering his mouth with his hand while his legs are still shaking. He denies again, feeling a demon land near his right ear. His environment does not change, it is not another dark scenario. 

It makes no difference if the demon is Vladimir Vladimirovich. 

"He doesn't know what you want." His voice is soft, manipulative. "I know it, I know you want." 

He complains when his lips close in his lobe, closing his eyes. This shouldn't happen, the prayer comes back to his mind. 

"Don't.." his voice becomes weak. "Touch me." 

"Why not?" His hands gently push him to the ground, turning him to look at his face. "I won't hurt you." 

He lets out a groan when the heavy body pounces on him, he can't help but remember a predator ready to attack his prey. 

He has no strength, his hands trying to keep him away. 

"I won't do it anymore." Kiss his lips, lightly. No one will hurt you, Dima.

"Don't touch me." He repeats, his body sweating. "Please."

Their mouths are back together, vladimir presses against him touching each part in an attempt to grab his entire body. He doesn't want this, he doesn't want it anymore.

His legs are moving uncomfortably, he needs air from the passionate kiss he has. He opens his mouth, trying to breathe when a groan escapes his lips as the president's evil tongue enters, inciting his tongue into something more passionate. 

He screams as the door slams open, surprised to see grigory standing. Watching them in anger and confusion. 

"Don't touch him." His body swoops down on them, annoyed. 

"Yeah, what are you gonna do?" The smile on Vladimir's face is mocking.

The weight on his body disappears, the president gets up to look at the doctor. They both have a murderous look in their eyes, so annoying they could draw sparks from their bodies. 

"I don't know." Grigory comes over, smiling. "What are you gonna do, hit me like you do with dima?"

You can feel the silence in the room.

Vladimir's hands surround grigory's clothes, bringing him closer. He tries to get up, to prevent any fight from forming in an imminent way. 

"What do you know?" he said, spitting out his words. "I would never hurt him." 

"He'll never be safe with you." 

So, grigory splits, helping him up. He clings to his arm, panting. 

He freezes when his lips touch his forehead, in a tender kiss. 

"Now you're safe with me." 

I had never seen vladimir hit anyone, in all those years the president had lost what people most longed for, their sanity. 

He walks up to grigory, seeing him on the floor with his bloody nose. Vladimir has his hands pressed tightly, stained red with the doctor's blood. 

"You're dangerous," he says, reeling from the blow. "Dima doesn't need someone to beat him up."

Grigory's fists are clenched, raising them to his face. 

"I wouldn't hurt him."

"You're such a hypocrite." He smiles, blood running down his nose. "But don't worry, you won't touch him again."

He tries to stop the men, begging not to go to such extremes. His body feels weak, sweat runs down his forehead until it hides from his shirt collar. 

The room changes, showing a place so bright that it makes her eyes contract. He can see a dark shadow rushing towards him, closes his eyes and waits for the darkness to consume him but, it doesn't happen instead, he is stopped by a yellow light, so warm and protective. 

Then he knew what was happening. 

Both men were hitting each other. 

He needed to return to his reality, to stop the fight.

"Vladimir Vladimirovich, stop!" 

What's going on? Close your eyes, listening to the voice of Akardy. He opens them again, watching his office in disrepair, his paperwork on the floor as vladimir lies on top of grigory, punching her face repeatedly.

A trickle of blood comes out of the president's mouth, his face is contorted, flushed with anger as he takes it out on the doctor's face. 

He must run, he must do something. 

His legs are moving, running with his last strength trying to separate the men. 

"Volodya, please don't!" he pleads, taking his right arm. "Stop." 

The burning on his cheek appears, the pain starts to come, he falls to the ground, complaining. 

She looks with her blurry eyes at the men who stop, looking in her direction with remarkable concern. 

"Dima." Grigory pushes the president's body closer to him." We must get you home." 

"Don't touch him, you bastard!" The president pounces on the doctor, spitting in his face. "You have no right to do that!" 

Watch as Arkady pulls them apart, taking Vladimir with Surkov, holding him. 

"And you do!?" he said, "You don't care about him, you don't want him!" 

"Grigory." Call, soft." Please, no need."

His head spins, he closes his eyes as his breath relaxes. He feels his mind is no longer bound to his body. 

He faints, leaving everything to the people around him. 

"God only knows how long he's been like this." 

He listens to his wife, far away. With her worried but serene voice. He keeps his eyes closed. 

"I hope he didn't see the fight, grigory is ashamed of that." 

"and vladimir?." 

"I don't know, he's still down." 

He opens his eyes, looking at Arkady with his melancholy, worried look. 

"You're a bastard!" His wife's voice explodes, angry. "I told you, Dima, you must rest." 

He smiles, feeling better, can't help but notice a patch on his arm. 

"I thought I could." 

"well no, you can't." Arkady interrupts him, annoyed. Can you imagine if this had been worse? 

He nods, getting out of bed. Leaning against his wife's body. 

"You will not return to work, you must rest." Arkady stands beside him, helping him walk."will be three days." 

The things he could do in three days off made him excited. 

"Grigory?." he asks, remembering his bloody nose. "Is he all right?." 

"He has a broken nose." Arkady grimaced painfully. I don't understand how he can go on with that strength.

To think that a vladimir's blow can leave grigory with a broken nose makes his body tremble. 

"He's downstairs." Svetlana opens the door, looking at him." She wants to talk to you, alone."

Think, it wouldn't be right to know what happened before but, if he was waiting for his wake, I could at least give him that.

"I will." he said, walking with difficulty. "Only if you help me down this staircase." 

He wonders what happened, the things that might have happened while his mind was going crazy. The number of steps are reduced. The president is sitting, knocking on his knuckles. 

"vladimir." he says, walking slowly to the couch. "you want to talk to me." 

Apparently, he took the president out of his thoughts.

He watches as his wife and friend withdraw, looking down on the man next to him. 

"Are you all right?" he asks, looking at him. "I hit you and I just wanted to know if you were all right." 

He is surprised by the man's attention, nodding politely. 

"I'm fine." he says, touching his cheek. "It doesn't hurt anymore." 

It gets a little uncomfortable, they don't talk for a few minutes. He notices the tense state of Vladimir's body. 

"I just." Coughing, clearing his throat." I want to see our relations with the Egyptians, we could get a better deal." 

That's all I wanted to talk to him about. Confused he nods, remembering. 

"It'll be all right." He says, looking for the words. "I just have to see grigory and..."

He complains when Vladimir's hand presses on his wrist, he didn't know when his hand was there. 

"That asshole." He keeps pressing his wrist, hatefully saying the words. "When I see him, he'll be dead in the woods somewhere." 

He's surprised, pulling his arm out tightly.

"Did I hurt you?" He strokes her wrist, lifting it towards his mouth, kissing her.

"No." He feels a little blush on his cheeks. "Just... forget it, never mind." 

"Well, remember not to talk to the bastard." Kiss his cheek, smile." I don't want you to be with him, it's not good for you." 

He nods, noting that grigory is in danger that only he can avoid. He doesn't want to think about the doctor's inert body, tied up in some tree with cuts on his body. Vladimir would leave him naked, humiliating him while he sprinkled some food for the animals, waiting for them to finish the macabre work he started. 

he know him so well, he know he'd be capable of doing that or worse. He can't help but be afraid for grigory, for mikhail and his son. 

Who would help mikhail if his father died, there is no one unless they take him in as a member of the family, but it would be suspicious and he does not want to put Ilya in the eye of the hurricane if they find out about his sexuality.

He can even read the cruel headlines. 

**_"ILYA DMITREVICH MEDVDEV, FINALLY OUT OF THE CLOSET."_ **

He doesn't know when the president came out of the room or if he said goodbye to him. He can't help but panic about the people around him. 

"So what?"

He turns his head, looking at Arkady with his arms crossed. 

"I need to call Grigory." He said, standing up. "It's important." 

"I'm not suggesting you do." Look through his clothes for his phone, handing it to him." Vladimir put a chip in his phone." 

"Thank you, really." He says, smiling. 

He writes down Grigory's number, hoping the other line will answer. 

The minutes are horrific, horrific images that cross his mind every second. He breathes a sigh when the line answers.

_"Grigory."_

_"Dima, God, Winnie, how are you?"_

He smiles, watching his cat Dorofei cross the room. He cries tenderly as he watches the little grey cats mewing hungrily. 

_"I'm fine, are you all right?"_

_"I am, just a little sore."_

He keeps looking at the cats, smiling. 

_"I'm sorry."_

_"I'm fine, Winnie, really."_

He sighs, looking up at the ceiling. This should be over. 

_"We should talk."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much if you keep reading this, the next one will be very interesting I guess. I want to save everything for the next one and the last ones that come <3


	14. Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's exciting to know that you've come almost to the end of this T~T I'm going to cry and I hope you enjoy it please

His body felt tense, he had drunk a glass of wine to relax but, the effect was reluctant to appear. 

His leg moves restlessly, sitting on the couch in grigory's house. He sighs, touching his forehead. 

It was his last day of rest, he had taken advantage of those days by resting, improving his reasoning skills and stimulating his reading. 

Now he just wanted to go back to his bed and close his eyes wishing this would be postponed, he didn't want this moment. 

"winnie, what's wrong?" 

He didn't wait, just his arms around the doctor's body, crying in his arms as he felt a stab-like pain in his chest. 

"Winnie." He repeats, shaking them as he kisses his forehead. "What's wrong?"

He didn't want to say the words, he didn't want to separate the man's life from his own, to go to different paths he once longed for. 

"We must." he hesitates, looking into his eyes. "Separate ourselves." 

A silence appears, short but precise. 

"Is it true? Is he forcing you?"

He nods, holding his grip tightly. 

"I'm sorry." He said, his eyes lowered, sorrowful. "I don't want him to hurt you." 

"I won't let you." 

How can you tell someone to stay away?, how can he say it's not good to be around him?, that he's dangerous, that he shouldn't be with him, a person so corrupt in soul that he'll be dragged to death. 

With his heart in his hand, he pleads, hoping to bring to reason the kind, loving, and beautiful doctor who gave life to his days. 

"You must do it." He breaks away, crossing his arms. "There are no options." 

"Of course there are." His hands rise, touching her cheeks gently. "Come with me, let's go to St. Peterborough." 

He denies, the tears run down his cheek because, it is the life he waits so long to be taken by the man lying on top, waiting for his dog to come and punish him for his disloyalty. 

"I can't, I told you." Look in his pockets, a piece of paper. "Keep this with you, please, you must only read it when I leave.

"Why not?." he hugs him, kissing his cheek. "You have nothing here, come with me, let's go to Sveta and Ilya, Misha." 

This is getting difficult, but who said goodbyes are easy?.

"That's why you must leave!" He screams, exploding. "How will I explain to Misha that her father died from falling in love with the President's toy!?"

"Dima, I'm not afraid of that man." His voice softens, stroking the man's hair. "I won't leave."

They remain like this, suffering silence as they move, in a slow and delicate dance, moving their feet in their music created in their mind. 

"But I do." kiss his cheek, touch his shoulders." I fear for you and..."

The door slams open, the president appears, with a mischievous, self-centered smile. 

His eyes open, the grigory smile widens, cheering from the lips of Vladimir Vladimirovich's toy. 

He closes his eyes, feeling his warm lips touch his own in such a tender, sweet kiss.

He remembers the words of his letter, touching grigory's neck as he separates. 

**_"You are right, I am forced. Vladimir has given me a kind of ultimatum, although it doesn't seem at first sight, it is. I fear for you, for what he can and will do to you if you stay by my side."_ **

A strange feeling appears, he doesn't know exactly, it's just a sharp pain in his chest that makes his throat close and creates a discomfort that he doesn't know how to get rid of. 

**_"I can't tell you what to do, I'm nothing but your friend, although, if we were in another time we would be more than that._ **

**_I want you to be happy, for the first time with your son, don't take him away from Ilya, I ask you. I've never seen him so happy in my life now that he can be without fear with Misha."_ **

He takes grigory's hand, interlacing his fingers with his soft but firm touch, conveying a security that soothes him for minutes. 

**_"I really hope you can be with someone. Just be happy, you mustn't save me, not this time."_ **

His fingers spread apart, he watches as grigory approaches vladimir, smiling softly. 

"I swear." he said, spitting out his soft words. "If you make him cry I'll take him away and you'll never see him again." 

He sits on the couch, watching as his life will return to misery again, as his humiliations will return, everything will return and he will not be able to do anything. After all, toys always belong to one owner. 

"I want to see you try." vladimir smiles, arranging his tie. "You can see your body in a bag." 

He looks at the president, standing up as he stands behind the doctor, smelling his scent one last time.

"Your threats don't scare me." He moves his body, protecting the prime minister. "You just have to see who you really scare." 

He hides his face in grigory's back, praying for everything that happened, hoping to wake up and show up at his job in St Peterborough. 

"He disappears." Vladimir's hand points at him, smiling. "The sight of you is repulsive."

"You're the only person who says it." The doctor smiles. "Dima doesn't say the same thing in my bed, in fact, he's pleased."

He opens his eyes, hugging him as he curses. He doesn't want to look at Vladimir's face, he doesn't feel it's the right thing to do. 

"dima come." 

He looks out of the corner of his eye, the president's face is red, anger builds up in his tense body. 

He holds himself in place, not moving or breathing. 

"I told you to come!." 

He jumps, nodding as his arms undo the hug, walking towards the president. 

Look at grigory, smiling sorrowfully. 

"You'd better get away." vladimir points to the doctor, opening the door. "before they find your body in the river." 

vladimir's hand touches his shoulder, his touch makes him tingle uncomfortably. His breathing is quickened by the threats to the man in front of him.

"You can't keep me away." The man reaches into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette. "I'll always be with dima."

He closes his eyes for a moment, opening them to look at the soft, patient face of the cardiologist. 

"Think carefully about what you're doing." Squeeze the grip on the opposite shoulder, without looking away from the doctor." It would be a shame to accompany dima to your funeral." 

He lowers his gaze, looking at his feet. The injustice eating away at her body like mites. He wants to get out of his grip, stretch out his hands to the doctor and hug him to sleep. 

Why did it have to end like this?, why can't Vladimir have another toy?, the questions are related and he finds the cruel answer.

Because vladimir can and will. 

It's real, if you ever get in the way of the president's wish you will be exterminated in a way that no one will know about you until after a month. 

"Come on." vladimir follows his gaze to his prime minister. "We have our little vacation." 

He nods, remembering the vacation they used to have when their relationships were calmer.

He resigns himself, leaving the house that gave him laughter and joy that he would never step foot again. The vladimir guards follow him, with their polarized lenses so as not to indicate where they are looking. He waits for the arrival of the president inside the limousine, looking at the casual clothes lying next to him with his name on them. 

He watches as the door opens, giving a space when the president enters, adjusting his tie. A feeling of mistrust appears. 

"It's a nice day, isn't it?" vladimir crosses his legs, looking at his fingernails. 

He nods again, looking out the tinted window. The sun is radiant, although light clouds cover it. 

"We'll go to a new place." he reports, knocking his knuckles. "Away, to rest." 

He doesn't respond, looking at the passing vehicles. The limousine continues on its way, stopping every car that was ever in motion. That was, uh, a plus, actually.

None of them spoke, each looked out his window in his own thoughts.

His concentration dissipated when his pocket vibrates, his phone mentioning new messages. 

First he looks at Vladimir, then at his phone. 

_"be careful, winnie, please."_

He turns off his phone, closing his eyes when the pain comes. It wasn't the best time to respond to her message. 

He waited, looking outside Moscow to see trees on the road, animals hiding in the deep and birds flying in the blue sky gave him a relaxing feeling. 

Although he would have liked to share that scenario with grigory, he would surely say something interesting about nature or some animal that passed by the vehicle. 

They arrived at a cabin, big enough for only two people but, the government facilities are great. 

He came down, his spirits dropping as he shuffled his feet to the stairs. Going up without looking at the president walking beside him.

He waited, looking confusedly at the guards who remained in their cars, without entering or even checking the place. Something new if you consider Vladimir's paranoia. 

They came in, looking at the rustic room with animal-skin carpets and their couches so hairy that he could sleep in the place. 

He walked over to the corner, sitting on the comfortable couch that lies there, staring at his phone as he crosses his leg, being engrossed in the presence of vladimir. 

_"I'll get it, don't worry."_

He sent, smiling fondly as he received the call from grigory. 

_"it's not a good idea."_

He looked up at vladimir, watching for any movement he might make in his off guard. 

_"it is, I must protect you."_

_"you must not."_

He closed his eyes, cursing.

_"Of course I do, I'm not interested in vladimir."_

His phone was snatched away in a rage, a nail even scraped his skin leaving a mark on his hand. He looked at vladimir, with an annoyed look, something hidden behind those dilated pupils and his dark blue eyes. 

"I told you." He pressed the off button, looking at it. "I didn't want you to talk to him." 

"Just don't hurt him." he said, looking at the clouds through the window. "You won, you always do."

The clouds are coming closer, calling out to the depression with its grey aspects, a little dark, loaded with anger that is waiting to be unleashed in disasters so horrible that they would mark the minds of the weak nerves that would be left with aftermath until their mental ruin. 

"It's something I'm proud of." vladimir fumbles the screen, throwing the phone away. "Winning is a natural thing, something I have to do." 

"So will you kill to win?" he asks, crossing his legs. "What do you want? I'm really tired."

It's not time to die, to decay, grigory would like to see him happy every moment.

Vladimir walks up to him, with a haughty walk as a smile crosses his face, a bit frightening. 

"You know." "He's hunched over, his hands are resting on the armrest." "I would, no matter how you win, you must do everything to make it." 

"It's cheating." He said, his voice trembled. "Why are we here?." 

Vladimir's lips touch his forehead, contaminating everything grigory ever achieved. 

"Speaking." He straightens up, sitting down. "Of us." 

"There's nothing to talk about." He looks at the bottle lying on the table, squinting. "You said it all, didn't you?"

They return to their uncomfortable silence, the drops start hitting the hut, the fireplace crackles moving slowly, invading with its heat. He closes his eyes for a moment, relaxing from the uncomfortable situation hitting his body. 

Then he feel a change in the environment, something moves, stealthy; he don't want to open his eyes, he keep them closed until his icy lips touch his mouth, his thick hands touch his body; his tongue touches his teeth demanding entrance for something more passionate. 

He opens his eyes, the sapphires touch his soul bringing the light into the darkness again. 

His body trembles, his hands resting on his shoulders strong pushing him. 

"Not everything really." Licking his lips, closing his eyes. "You have a sweet taste." 

He doesn't respond, the tingling of the president's lips are maintained for a few moments. He gets up, the rain becomes intense hitting with anger each tile of the roof that rests covering his body. 

"I'm going to sleep." he said, walking up the stairs. "There's no need for this."

Vladimir's hands close on his arm, a grip like a carnivorous plant or a snake closing its jaws while the poor prey does not know what is happening. 

"We're not finished," he said, pushing him to the wall. "Not yet."

"What do you want?!?" His body is moving hysterically. "Kill grigory?!? Hit me!?"

The grip intensifies, violent. 

"I would never do that."

"You did it!" he shouted, trembling.

He shakes, his eyes go out. 

"I just wanted you to say you loved me!" he said, staring at the ceiling. "You're proud of me!" 

"I am." 

He keeps silent, looking at the man in surprise. The flames burn his side of his face, in a warm embrace. He kicks, tears run down his cheeks. 

This was unfair, he was happy. 

"It's a lie!" he said, pushing vladimir's body. "You've never proved it! It's as if you're ashamed!" 

Why must it be so, he wonders, as he watches vladimir approach him, hugging him while he can feel the manly scent of president, his legs tremble, his senses are clouded.

His body clings to the contrary as the clouds discharge their anger at the hut, a powerful sound hitting. His head rests on the man's chest, listening to the soft beating of his heart. 

"I'm sorry." she said, releasing her grip. "I don't like thunder."

Yet the president's arms encircle his body, strong but soft, trying not to hurt. They stay that way, with the rain pounding and the powerful thunder in the background; scaring him from time to time as he gets closer. Their breaths are joined, in unison as their bodies together share the heat. 

"I know I don't show it." vladimir speaks in his ear, softly. "But I really am."

He doesn't answer, he says nothing; he keeps silent looking at the fireplace next to him, watching the wood burn to ashes. As a person, he is exactly the same as someone long-lived, living long enough to be big, strong oaks until they fall and are burned to be something as insignificant as ashes. The arms separate him, the heat disappears giving back a cold that embraces him reclaiming all the heat that was there minutes ago.

The lips come closer to him, he should separate but he doesn't. He looks at the eyes waiting for the moment when his soul will be shattered again. 

Then it happens. 

Their mouths come together, their lips claiming every corner. The hands touch his body, his waist down to his ass. He becomes more passionate, he feels the bad energy rushing at him, the empty words hitting his mind to make him react. 

He separates it, violently; looking with pain at the desire in the president's eyes. 

"You're lying to me!" he said, walking to the door. "You just want me for sex!"

The strong hand closes over his wrist, pulling him towards the man. The rain becomes more intense, the sky cries loudly, venting its sorrows with the moon that patiently waits to dry her tears. 

"How could I?." His hands try to touch the face of his prime minister. "I could not hurt you like that." 

He moves his face, then the hand is like a touch on his cheek, he can't believe the man's manipulation but his eyes are sincere. 

"No, no!" His arm struggles, coming out of his grip. "I don't believe you!"

He walks to the door, opening it as a knock makes him fall in the mud. The smell of rain confuses him, the pain of the blow remains for a few moments. He turns his body, without getting up while vladimir points at him, with fury in his eyes. 

"What the fuck do you want from me!?" he shouts, going down the steps. "I give all I can but you only think of yourself!" 

He steps back, watching in horror as his vision in his fever becomes reality as the minutes go by. His body gets dirty in the mud, implying that he must be there, something as inferior as the mud on the floor, so dirty and disgusting. 

Vladimir doesn't seem to care, his look is animalistic, annoying. 

"You'll never change!" he shouts, standing up. "You'll always be the reason for everyone's misery!" 

"You know that's not true!" He answers, walking. "I'm making an effort for you!"

He's walking away, he shouldn't be there. 

He goes back, looking for a way out. He walks through the trees, listening to the thunder, jumping, scared by it. 

The dirty water washes off his ruined suit, some of the dirt stays on his face, down his cheek to rest on his shirt.

"You can't hide when I see your soul!." 

The voice is close, his feet are dirty and filthy from the mud, his knees tremble and his fear of thunder increases when, without warning, with all the force one explodes, so close to him that he falls, near some bushes that make his body uncomfortable. 

"I know you, Dmitry Anatolievich!" 

The voice is strong, close to him. His breathing is soft, he tries to stay calm, not to arouse suspicion while, slowly, he steps on the dirt. 

The screams stop, the footsteps are no longer heard. Only the sound of rain is heard in the air, constant. 

"I told you you couldn't hide."

He falls on his back, looking at Vladimir's accelerated body. The drops prevent him from seeing clearly or are his tears..., he doesn't know, only his sight remains cloudy, watching the body press against his, straddling him. 

"Can't you see what I'm doing for you?" he shouts, his hands raise the minister's arms. "And all you do is complain!"

Vladimir's hands press tightly on their wrists, the rain seems to advance more strongly, soaking their bodies. The trees would witness what will happen in the next few minutes. 

"And you just bend people!" He sobs, his arms hurt. "You hurt them until they are lifeless!"

"Stop talking!" 

he looks at him, defiant as she relaxes her arms, the trees move with the wind, expectant of what would happen. 

"Then shut me up." 

His lips meet, the taste of water combines with his kiss. He doesn't resist, he moves his lips to the beat the president indicated. His heart aches, happy memories of vladimir appear, causing a depressing feeling in his chest. 

Her lips part, the rain continues, this time it diminishes for a moment. Their gazes meet, their breaths mingle until they kiss again. The trees meet looking at the scene, the moon continues to be patient with the sky that unloads its emotions on the earth.

he lets go of her arms, touching her body, wiping her hands on her clothes. he shudders as her hands reach into her pants, kneading her crotch. He breathes a sigh, pressing his hands against the president's shoulders. 

"don't do it." he says, moving his legs. "please don't give me hope." 

He receives another kiss, vladimir's hands go inside, touching his flaccid limb which reacts to his caresses. 

"n-no." he babbles, spreading his legs. "don't do that." 

He bites his lips, his legs tremble when his fingers press on their tips. 

"Why not?" he asks, kissing her neck. "It's not hope." 

Close his eyes, hold back his panting as the speed increases. His body is delighted by the caresses, it's been so long since he's felt the pleasure in his body that he feels himself fainting there, with his back to the floor as the man for whom he has suffered so much touches him, bringing him to the edge of such addictive pleasures. 

"You lie." He stretches his head back, sighing. "You don't need me, you never do."

He feels different, he seeks pleasure in desperation while clinging to the man's body with strength. His legs are shaking, slightly but noticeably. 

"I need you." The president's voice echoes in his head.

He is close, his body tightens to the point of feeling a cramp in his legs, his sperm comes out, along with his hope of returning to his normal life. 

He opens his eyes, pushing the man's body. The rain continues, this time regaining its strength by hitting with increasingly powerful thunder. He clings to the tree, lifting his body that seems to have lost all vids to move forward. He staggers, moving his body as his legs move in the direction of the hut. 

"You can't do it alone." vladimir stands up, supporting the prime minister. "Come on."

He does not have the strength to struggle, he feels empty and dirty for having succumbed to the pleasures of the president. 

"You can leave me alone," he said, walking with the president. "I know how to get there." 

"No, you don't." His frown frowns, looking at the luminescence of the hut.

They continue on their way, looking at some trees crooked against their will, it seemed as if a bow to the man next to them was present. She climbs the steps, counting four in all. 

"You're dirty." vladimir begins to take off his clothes. "And wet." 

He grimaces, trying to walk away from him. He counts the minutes to give his legs the strength. 

Vladimir's hands coil around his body, like a snake imprisoning him. 

"Go take a shower," he says, helping him up the stairs.

He squints his eyes, the light hurts his eyes in an annoying way. His pupils contract as he sees his reflection in the mirror, his body dirty and his face so haggard, so disgusting. 

"Come." 

The water begins to rise, he watches with his arms crossed to vladimir that; slowly, he rolls up his dirty shirt, with his strong, white arms. 

"Come in, it's time for a swim." 

He doesn't have to smile but, he falls into the game, taking off his shoes and clothes; one by one, lowering his underwear to quickly get into the tub, feeling like a small child, although the sensation really disgusts him. 

"don't move." vladimir strokes the back of his neck, wetting it.

He moves, evading the president's next touch. The knot in his throat extends longer. 

"Why don't you want to?." he said, holding his hand around her neck. "Stop being a child."

He feels the slap, shaking him from his position.

He looks at him, in his eyes the disappointment. 

"You never change." 

He clings to his legs, watching the mud dissolve to clean his skin. 

"Leave me alone." Tears are streaming down his face. "It's the best thing you can do." 

"I'm doing it." He gets up, abruptly as he throws the clothes away. "But you make it difficult." 

Complains, wetting his face. 

They go back to their position, vladimir keeps touching his body, this time he doesn't say anything. He looks with his dead eyes at the wall, his body trembles as he rubs his thighs.

"You don't know what I've done for you." The president moves his legs, touching his thighs.

"Is that a good thing?." He said, closing his eyes.

He shakes when his hands touch his limb. 

"It's always a good thing." His face goes up to his minister's shoulder, kissing him. "If it's for you, it will always be." 

He closes his eyes, sighing.

"I want to try this, though." His hand goes to his hole, smiling. "I need to have you." 

He denies, retreating from the touch. His body feels warm, his fingers come closer, breaking through the wall of flesh that's entering him. 

"You don't need to have me," he says, spreading his legs. "You'll take me whether you like it or not." 

He closed his eyes, sighing as the fingers curl up and touch the rough spot that cuts off his breath. 

"It's not about that, you know." 

He bites his lip, squeezing the arm between his legs. 

He's close, the previous orgasm left him sensitive and just having a little pressure at that point makes him desperate. 

"Wait." he says, breathing heavily as he closes his legs. "I-I don't want this to happen." 

Vladimir goes faster, with his free hand he opens his leg, inserting another finger while mumbling sweet things in his ear. His body gets hot, his heart hurts. 

"You're adorable, I told you." Kisses his cheek, squeezing his leg.

he screams, feeling the burn on his cheeks. He tries to suppress the moan, biting his lip as the pain increases and the skin tears. 

The chains return, claiming what was always Vladimir's. 

"Come to bed," he said, shaking her hair contrary. "It's late." 

He nods, feeling his arms raise, hugging him to bring him into the master bedroom. So big and detailed, with his animal-skin sheets and silk-covered pillows. With the details in the wood of the walls so beautiful that any artist could envy. He lands in the middle of the sheets, looking at vladimir who, little by little, starts pulling out his own clothes. 

"I need to know," he said, taking off his shirt, "if you were with him." 

His arms are wrapped around the president's neck, a bitter smile crosses his lips. 

"You've won." His eyes cross. "Does it matter?"

His eyes open wide when his fingers are wrapped around his neck, pressing on his Adam's apple. 

Watch the lips come closer, joining again with such dark passion. The kiss is violent, vladimir sucking the blood from her lip; biting as she opens her legs. 

They part for a moment, vladimir smiles. 

"It is to take you as it should be." 

He closes his eyes, complaining when his body is forced to stand up, changing to an animal-like position. He opens his eyes with difficulty when a blow probes his bottom, looking at his face instead of the wall. A mirror is in front of him, he can see vladimir positioning himself behind him. 

"I want you to look." he said, embracing the body below him. "I want you to see your face." 

The fleshy tip of vladimir hits his hole, coming in hard. He had not had relations, at some point he was satisfied with his fingers but nothing thicker than the president's limb.

He looks at his face in shame, feeling the tears on his face running. He presses the sheets with his hands until his fingers that his knuckles are white. 

"It hurts." he said, biting his lip. "It hurts oh!." 

"So no one has had your body." He whispers, touching his cheeks with his fingers. "That's a good thing." 

He is forced to look, the tip touches the end, pushing hard against his body. 

It's slow but torturous, each blow is full of power, causing screams from deep in his throat. 

He got used to it quickly, the drool was running down his mouth and his words were babbling as the sound of applause grew louder. The shame of surrendering to the man who is hurting him so much begins to bother him in his chest, his throat feeling torn. 

"Look at you." he said, stabbing. "That's how you are in sex." 

He opens his eyes with difficulty, his face is red and the vladimir body above him embarrasses him.

His face is contorted, from his mouth falls a thread of saliva and his moans grow louder as the onslaught increases in speed. 

"I hate what you make me feel." he murmurs in his ear, biting him. 

He moans, panting as the limb withdraws, joking in his entrance. He doesn't want to ask, he doesn't need to because he knows if he does, he'll be doomed for the rest of his life. 

"Come on, dima." He says, entering the tip. "Beg, shout what you need."

"Ah!" he screams, the hand hits his side. "No! I don't need it!"

The member comes in suddenly, punishing him. 

"Wrong answer." He's joking, hitting harder." You're oh! Fucking tight." 

He screams, his voice is no longer good, it's a bundle of nerves that is punished by being on top of him. Vladimir touches his limb, caressing it. 

"Oh! Yes." He screams, forgetting everything he thought. "Damn it, oh!" 

He curses, his walls shrink when the speed increases. He's about to arrive, his toes are contracting.

"Not so easy." The fingers press on his tip, imitating his release. "You'll go hard, crying and screaming." 

Look in the mirror, vladimir's eyes looking like him. He despairs, the onslaughts are slow, hitting his prostate hard. He shouldn't beg but, his fluid is painfully held at its tip, the self-imposed carnal wall of vladimir making him uncomfortable. 

"Please!" He moves his hip, meeting the onslaught. "Please vladimir vladimirovich!"

He clings to the sheets, lifting his ass while trying to concentrate. 

"Say it." He bites his shoulder under it, licking the bite. "I want to hear you, I want the whole forest to do it." 

He closes his eyes, the morals in his body go when the need is greater than his own ethics. 

"Please!" He screams again, louder. "I'm asking you! I'm close!" 

He lets out a high-pitched, loud moan that makes him wonder himself. That seems to be enough to make him let go of his limb by letting the liquid run down the sheets. He sighs, panting as the president breaks free inside him, filling him up. 

"You're beautiful," he says, coming out of his body.

He blushes, looking at his hot body and tearful face. He gazes morbidly as the vladimir limb comes out of his body, causing much of the liquid to run down his thigh and legs. 

He is surprised when the tongue touches his legs, cleaning his body. He trembles when it touches his erogenous and sensitive back. 

"D-don't touch there." he stammers, his legs shake. "It's dirty."

He observes that Vladimir stops, looking at his face in the mirror with a smile. 

"Who are you, a child?." He said, licking from his buttock to his neck. "You're not dirty, no part of you is."

A chill runs through him, yawning as his lips kiss him unexpectedly. 

They come out of their position, Vladimir looks at him from the front, hugging him. 

"Sleep with me," he says, kissing his cheek.

Nod, looking at the bag under the president's eyes. The tiredness reflects his face, a nuance he never found. 

"We've never slept together." He moves his body, looking at it. "What makes this different from the usual?" 

"In that." His hands are directed at the opposite waist, bringing him closer. "There are no more games." 

His hand moves shakily, he doesn't know what could happen. His fingers touch the president's cheek, he's never touched him before. He touches the lines of his forehead; he goes down, his characteristic nose to his lips, touching the upper one to the lower one. 

His hand reaches behind his ears, surprised by the president's groaning. He watches for a moment as the blue eyes close, continues, touching in that area feeling the slight snoring of the man. 

He thinks, looking at his serene face without any concern. He smiles, kissing his forehead as he gets up, walking to the door. He looks back for the last time, closing the door by descending.

The sofa is warm, it lulls his body into a complete relaxation. He feels tired, so much has happened in his day that he doesn't want to think about anything. He hesitates, adjusting his body until it becomes something that would not return, leaving his body to move to the dream plane. 

The member of vladimir inside him hits him, his legs rise and fall quickly, an inhuman need to consummate his pleasurable act. 

"Good boy." vladimir takes his chin, biting it.

He bends his back, feeling the tip hitting the spot that drives him crazy. 

"dima." 

He turns his face, trying to look at the person behind him, is embarrassed to see grigory standing there, with his gaze held high. 

"Grigory ah, Vova no." 

He bites his lip, feeling a third hand touching his body, specifically his shoulder, stroking it down his flat stomach.

"I didn't think your body was like that." 

He closes his eyes, his body trembles when the grigory lips touch his lips.

His legs rest on vladimir's legs, his lips follow the doctor's dance as his body is abused by the president. 

"you're a fucking bitch." he bites his chest, touching his limb. 

he separates from his lips, screaming as the tip hits her spot. 

"he is, he screams like a bitch in heat." grigory moves her body, pulling down her pants." a fucking screamer." 

He feels the grigory tip on his ass, touching and pressing as the onslaught stops. The fear of the evil idea overwhelms him. 

"No!" he screams, trying to get out of the limb inside him. "Don't think that!" 

He cried, pressing the shoulders of Vladimir in front of him. The doctor's limb is forced in, struggling inside him. 

"You shouldn't have a problem with such a big ass." vladimir touched his face, smiling.

"After all, you're a greedy bitch." The doctor slaps his ass, laughing. 

He complains, looking mockingly as vladimir's eyes open in surprise at the grigory lips, forcing his kiss. 

He squeezes his nside, the blood feels in his temples as the limbs move inside him. Men's hands touch his body, kissing and rubbing his sensitive parts. 

"I can't!" he cries, tears coming out. "It's too much!" 

His complaints are ignored, the onslaughts are gentle but painful, his body feels warm. 

Grigory masturbates his limb, leading him to a despair he doesn't know, vladimir sucks on his nipples. 

"It's too much!" he repeats, tapping the president's shoulders. "I said oh! It's too much ah!"

He whistles, screams and curses, receiving the onslaughts and caresses on his body, with the voices of men praising his body in a vulgar and obscene way. 

"Look how sweet a hole you have." grigory bites his shoulder, hitting his buttock." it's so tight oh !"

"We'll have to ah!" Vladimir slaps her face in a slap. "Fucking bitch! Don't squeeze!" 

He complains, his body is pearly with sweat, a thread of blood runs down his thigh and his limb is stimulated by both men, joking with the tip as they caress the base. 

"Please ah." He presses his inside, getting another slap." Stop! Oh, please." 

Grigory hits his body, his insides swell from the onslaught, expanding. 

"What are we gonna do with him?" the doctor asks, coming out of him. "He's a crying bitch." 

" ahm, what if?. " vladimir kisses his neck, licking. " we enjoy his body until he loses consciousness. " 

He denies, trembling when he feels empty at the moment vladimir comes out of it, turning it over while the pose is different. Grigory holds his body, raising his legs as the president approaches, the balance is different. 

"Hold my neck unless you want to fall," he says, entering his body.

He screams again as both limbs enter, his face grimaces as his nipples are bitten.

"Dmitry oh! Anatolievich shit! Medvedev." vladimir jokes, kissing his lips." letting himself be fucked by ah! Two men." 

Close his eyes, the knots form when the orgasm is felt. The president's hands hang around his neck, grigory touches his body masturbating his member. 

He screams, his eyes close until they open to look into his blue eyes, vladimir touches his leg, it was a dream. 

"I woke up without you." He said, kissing her cheek. "Why are you here, naked?" 

He thinks, looking at him in discomfort, the society in his body doesn't exist but, he feels it, stinging his body to the point of wanting to tear his skin off. 

"I don't think sleeping with the toys is the right thing to do." He wakes up, avoiding her touch.

"You know that's not true." 

The man's lips kiss his body, he doesn't want to see it, society increases when the kisses go up to his neck, touching his lips. His heart aches again, he feels he would have heart problems. Love causes that, his chest makes a painful mess. 

"You've been occupying my body," he said, bringing his hands to Vladimir's face. "But you've never told me you love me." 

He wakes up, his naked body being whipped by the morning breeze. He feels no shame for the man, he's seen his body everywhere. 

He looks at the window, the sun's rays giving clarity to the forest destroyed by the previous rain. 

"What differentiates me from your lover with your toy if you don't say you love me."

Look at the liquor shelf, opening to take out anything, no matter what the name of the alcohol. He uncaps the bottle, drinking endlessly to the last drop. 

"Don't talk rubbish." Vladimir raises his hand, moving his finger in a sign of approach. "Come."

He presses his hands, bites his lip to let his anger explode along with the alcohol hitting his system. 

"No! You always do this!" He turns around, looking at him. "You take what you want and then lock it up so you can enjoy it whenever you want!" 

Vladimir stands up, walking.

"You're still by my side."

The liquor hits his system, giving him a chill. 

"I have no choice! You'll kill grigory if I don't." He sits on the floor, touching his legs. "I really thought you'd change." 

Vladimir's steps are like a caged animal, with inner rage waiting to be unleashed at the moment of release. That doesn't matter anymore, his life doesn't and his liquor stays. Open another bottle. 

"You're deluded, you're deluded." he said, touching his sparse hair. "I'll change but you, you'll border on my annoyance."

"You always get upset! Everything I do makes you angry." He points at the man, looking in pain. "You're never happy by my side." 

Vladimir's voice is marked with anger, his steps denote his fury. 

"I'm happy with you." He murmurs, rambling. "But what good is it if you're happy with that idiot? You must be happy with me."

He denies, drinking a drink that burns his throat. His eyes are strained and his mind doesn't think, only the fury of his soul is the engine of his body. 

"He cared for me, he didn't lower me to the trash that I am." He covers his face, touching the cold glass. "I'm not enough for you." 

"I can do it, you won't lack anything." She approaches him, putting down the bottle. "You're not trash or a toy."

He squints his eyes, looking at him angrily. 

"What do you know!? I haven't been happy with you all my lousy life!" he says, getting up to sit on the comfortable sofa. "You hurt whoever's next to me. No one matters to you."

Vladimir sits down next to him, kissing his cheek. He feels disgusting, like a heretic. 

"I care about you," he says, holding his hands.

He presses the bottle in his hands, laughing. The irony crossing his face. 

"Of course." he said, a chuckle escapes. "Then ilya is someone straight." 

He laughs again, the liquor makes people say their deepest desires. 

"Stop drinking." Take the bottle away tightly. "You don't know what you're saying."

He stands up, looking at the shelf drinking the most expensive wine; removing the cork with an exquisite sound. 

"You never listen to me!" He throws the bottle on the floor, screaming. "Since I met you, you never listen to me! You don't take me into account!" 

It stops the man's speech, interrupting him. 

"You won't change !" He screams, walking to him. "Stop lying through your shit !"

A push makes him fall on the couch, vladimir's body presses against him. 

"Stop being a pain in the ass !" He says out of his mind. "All day long with complaints but at night you scream like a bitch." 

"You see !?? I'm just your toy !" he shouted, pulling his face closer. "You want to change but you don't make it work ! You just want to have sex and be heard !" 

He looks up, smiling when his hands touch his neck. 

"Fuck you ! You don't even realize what I do for you !" 

His lips meet, vladimir forces his tongue into his mouth; they separate for a moment.

"I want to listen to you." He said, Softly." It just bothers me!."

"What do you do for me?!" He holds back his tears. "You push me away? You hit me? You humiliate me? Everything I say will upset you." 

His body feels weak, his breath makes him nauseous. 

"Good!" he said, taking his chin. "I make an effort but you only see that faggot!" 

The tongue touches his lips, he feels like spitting in his face. 

"That faggot made me happy in a way you never have!" He smiles, his madness coming out. "You only dull that happiness." 

"He takes advantage of you!" His head goes down to the minister's chest. "I want to make you happy." 

It touches the man's sensitive point, leading him to his sincerity. 

"You don't."He sighs, looking at the window." You have me here, scared. You can't make me happy." 

And he was really scared, he just wanted to cry; beat his body unconscious. 

"Don't be scared of me." Lips kiss his forehead." You'll be happy." 

"I don't believe you." He turns over, his naked body touching the clothes." You'll get back into the routine."

Vladimir joins his lips, kissing him tenderly but quickly. 

"Don't tell me." he said, near his mouth. "I won't hurt you this time."

"I want you to leave me alone." 

Look at Vladimir's silence, he insists again. Louder, he insists on demanding his solitude to wander. The president feels different, his aura changes. 

"I told you that if.."

"I can't!" He stands up, throws the bottle. "I can't leave you alone! What if you decide to leave me?! What if you don't want to be by my side?!" 

He denies, the alcohol in his system demanding to defend himself. 

"Don't you see how you are?" he says, crossing his legs." You bother with something simple." We're in a cabin, I'm not going to run away, I'm asking for five minutes!" 

He can see Vladimir losing his head, walking side by side as he staggers. 

"You only see what you want!" He points, grunting." You don't see my efforts, you fucking faggot!"

"Fuck you!" He shouted, the wind touched his bare legs. "You never leave me alone, I won't go away. Do you understand?"

"I can't leave you alone ! I can't do it !"

"Are you afraid Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin?"

He smiled when he touched the man's nerve, the liquid from the liquor dripping down the corner of his lip. 

"I'm not afraid." He kept talking. "Of no one, least of all you. People are afraid of me, I have the world eating out of my feet."

"Then why don't you leave me alone for five minutes!" he said, moving his feet.

He didn't have time to see what Vladimir had drunk, he was so drunk he hadn't seen the man drink a bottle. 

"I like to see you." He stands up, walking. "Seeing that you're a scared faggot who shakes his ass and gets victimized." 

" Oh." He said, smiling. " I can only see someone demanding love he never had, sinking into his own shit." 

He's not afraid, the alcohol lets the fear go, the anger comes and his confrontation becomes inevitable. 

"So ?" vladimir takes another drink. "I don't need anything from you, you're disgusting and disgusting." 

He stands up, naked, facing the man. 

"I hope you remember this in your society," he said, shaking his hands. "Because no more, it's over. If you don't need me, I'll leave and there are better toys, after all, I belong to grigory." 

Vladimir pushes him again, falling to the chair while his legs open to feel the president's erection. 

"You don't belong to that faggot!" he said, pressed his limb. "Only to me! Don't you dare mention his disgusting name!" 

He smiled, kissing his lips with mockery. 

"Grigory loves me, I love him and you?" he laughed, listening to the zipper go down. "You're just leftover." 

"He doesn't love you! He just uses you!"

He holds a groan as the limb enters, hitting his body. 

"Look who's using me, just for sex." 

A thrust across his body, waves of pleasure awakening his limb. His legs open demanding a better position. 

"You won't leave my side," he said, his hip in a violent swing.

He retains a groan, biting his lip.

"I will." He frowned, receiving the onslaught. "And you will never see me again."

"No!" He takes his hair, pulling it. "You won't let me understand!? You belong to me!" 

He's panting, looking at him with mockery as he holds back his moans. 

"I ." He says, waving his hands in the president's face. "I belong to grigory." 

His head spins, the slap hits his cheek.

"You don't change." He turns his face, looking into his eyes. "You're an idiot." 

"Look what you provoke." His face softens.

"What have I done to you?" he said, biting his lip. "Great Tsar, delight my ears with your answer." 

He gasps when he receives a stake in reply, smiles bitterly. 

"I don't know and it bothers me." He grimaces. "I don't know what you provoke in me." 

"Anger." He said, "His hands are touching the man's chest." That's what caused you.

He wrinkles the president's perfect shirt, failing to retain his moan when he touches his member. 

"Then why are you like this?"

"I don't want to lose you." His breath denotes alcohol.

It presses against his insides, kissing his forehead. 

"You're doing it." He said, panting. "And you're not able to see it."

He makes a moan as the limb leaves his body, demanding the culmination of the act. 

"As you wish." He zips up, tidying his shirt. "Dress quickly, they'll be here in a few minutes." 

He shrugs his shoulders with a smile. The clothes fall on his face. See how vladimir's body is tense, upset. A few drops of alcohol stain the beauty of the sapphire shirt.

His erection remains, the clothes rubbing against his skin cause pleasant sighs. He pulls up his pants, so slowly that he gazes mockingly at the president's exasperated face. 

"Can you be faster?" he said, walking up to him. 

"Why don't you come and see me if you're in such a hurry?." 

He smiles, the alcohol coming out as Vladimir lifts his body. Dressing him in such a hurry while helping the man with his shirt. A laughing girl escapes his lips when she hears a man snort. 

"Are we ready?" he asks, walking around as she looks at the president.

"They're outside." 

He nods, playfully, while his erection shows no sign of coming down. He gets into the car, touching his member as he sighs. 

"Can you stop doing that?." Vladimir crosses his legs, grunting.

He doesn't respond, touching his body while the embarrassment and speed of the vehicle continue. 

He wonders why they're going so fast, he doesn't remember having anything important unless.. 

_Sveta_

He had made an appointment with her in his office, to prepare the decorations with arkady for his evening with Slava. His wife had given the idea of a simple but intimate dinner and Arkady is just a bundle of nerves. 

If they knew he had sex with Vladimir they would surely be crucifying him though, I wouldn't know which one of them exactly. 

He feels Vladimir's hand on his thigh, looks at him out of the corner of his eye. His hand comes to touch the man's hand, vladimir presses on his crotch. 

"I told you to stop." 

The caresses are quick, on top of his cloth pants. He presses his groaning palms as he squeezes his limb while caressing with his thumb. 

"I'm close." he said, moving his legs and hips for more rubbing.

He bites his lips as the vehicle stops, letting his sperm out into the pants. He's embarrassed, his face blushing from feeling like a precocious teenager. 

He looks at Vladimir, his proximity is so close that his lips are rubbing. 

"Sir, we have arrived."

The two separate at once. 

"What did you want to do?" he asks with a smile. 

"This."

His lips touch, they feel so delicious that it makes his eyes roll for the peaks of pleasure felt by his body. 

"Come, to my office."

They come down, cover with their coat the little stain that starts to appear on their pants. He walks urgently with the president while dodging the looks of the officials.

"Take a new pair of pants," he says as he enters his big chair. 

"Do you feel all right?" he asks, taking the pants that lie on the desk. 

He wonders why there are pants in his size in Vladimir's office but doesn't want to elaborate on that or he might have more chilling thoughts. 

He takes off his pants, changing them to the same color, a little tighter that makes his butt look bigger. 

"Of course I do." he said, standing up. "I have you."

"I seem to remember." He buckles his button, the belt is ready. "Your words about not needing me." 

Watch as Vladimir seems to consider his words, the alcohol forgets what was said but, he remembered everything. 

"I don't remember." 

He crosses his arms, looking at the president. 

"You never remember when you say something apparently." 

He hears a snap from vladimir, the man approaches him with a hug. 

"We'll talk later, I have an interview." He kisses his cheek, parting. "Come to my residence, after work." 

He vaguely hears something about the door when he comes out. He stays in his position for a while, looking out the window when an image of Arkady's frightened gaze as his wife pats him on the back takes him away from his ramblings. 

He walks through the corridors while feeling another aura, a different atmosphere. More relaxed, the officials do not seem to have the usual melancholy and astonishment. 

He arrives at his office, greeting Ivan as he enters, looking at his wife and her friend. Kiss his wife's cheek while she smiles. 

"What do you plan to do with Slava?"

They're talking for a while about the preparations for the most romantic evening anyone could ever see. Remembering their wedding anniversary, something banal as so many boring people would say. 

When Arkady's idea to watch the president's interview comes up he can't deny the request. His wife seems surprised, he would tell her perhaps when everything is in order and they can be together. 

"So, Mr. President, what are your plans for the country?" a paparazzi question, courageous. 

" as you know, i prefer the best for the country. " he said, shaking his feet. " we are a strong nation that has demands of course, strong. " 

He looks out the window, his fingers pass through his lip as vladimir is questioned. 

"How would you describe the best?"

" as his name says, the best. " he smiles, supposedly sincere. " I wish that all Russian people can live without problems, being proud of their nation that facilitates the country's greatness. With the Prime Minister we are sure we will succeed." 

A smile crosses his lips, looking at the journalists who write quickly in their notes. He remembers when it all started like this. 

"What is your relationship with the prime minister?" 

He watches in awe as the lost ones look as much as he does at the brave man who speaks, with his frightened eyes. 

Vladimir seems to consider, his skin bristles when the gaze is directed at him. 

"We're friends from years ago." he began, wetting his lower lip. "I see nothing out of the ordinary in our friendship, it's simply something lasting."

"What happened over there." His wife speaks, touching his shoulder. "Don't tell me that.."

"No, no." He said, alarmed. "He didn't do anything, we just talked."

Think a little, looking at her. 

"He told me to go to his residence." 

Listen to how Arkady and his wife's scolding begins, remembering all the evil the man did. 

"You can't go alone because he cheated on you today!."

"sveta is right, dima." Arkady comes to him, compassionate. "Did he say he's going to change and everything will be all right?"

He puts his head down in shame, he shouldn't feel that way, it wasn't his fault. 

"God Dima." His wife hugs him, kissing his forehead.

He corresponds, knowing that the choice to tell about the threat of grigory would fuel the growing hatred in vladimir. 

"I'll just go and talk is all." He said, looking for his phone. "Nothing will happen to me sveta, I promise." 

"I swear." He started, touching her cheeks. "If I see you crying when you come back I'll kill that bastard." 

He smiles, kissing his wife's forehead while hugging his friend.

"Sveta, you help Arkady in his residence." He said, walking. "I'll go to work."

Still, knowing he can give in to the lies of death he decides to go, he will work until his body is restless; his chest moves in the excitement that was not once the focus of the President's attention. 

"I hope I'm doing the right thing," he said, signing the papers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's too long, I'm really sorry T^T and God, I just have to say thank you, thank you very much <3


	15. Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very exciting for me so I hope it is for you too, thank you very much indeed for reading this

_**Sometimes I feel tired, withdrawn on a plane outside my body. It is not fatigue, I feel so disgustingly tired that my soul strikes within me with gentle touches in its own weariness.** _

_**How the years have passed, my thoughts have killed me when this question is asked in my mind throughout the night when I do not feel positive feelings about myself. I am in a state of madness, perhaps; looking at an elbow that hangs by such a thin thread that it will lead me to the most ephemeral madness.** _

He looked down at his story, looking at how ungraceful he was. Lack of emotion and of the feelings he wanted to express. Of course he was tired, he wanted to sleep and relax his body, he had also completely changed his blog giving perhaps a writing enthusiast something poetic, kinder and with touches so distressing that sometimes they depressed him.

He smiled as he stroked his temples in self-imposed relaxation, things were getting difficult at this point and he didn't know how to deal with them. The strike of the clock bothered him, he continued, unmoved by his problems which passed to the owner of the office. He was wasting away, the decisions he had to make were haunting him, the day of replying to death came, patiently waiting on a throne thrown for the corpses of the modern era. 

He wrote again, erasing what was on his screen to make way for the blank page eager to be filled with meaningless words. 

_**When do you know that you feel tired, it is an easy thing to answer if you are someone young but I am not, I am forty years old and the experiences have stained, torn, broken my soul, body and mind into so many pieces that my hands bleed trying to put them together.** _

It goes on, inspiration crossing her veins as she ignites music with a melancholic melody of a piano, slowly.

The blissful creativity seems to last a few minutes when, without warning, the death's assistant appears, smiling as he sits in front of him, crossing his fingers as he watches ivan at the door apologizing, closing the door. 

"How are you, bitch?" he said, with his usual mocking tone.

"Slava, I'm gonna call arkady and tell him you're here." he threatens, looking at him. "I'm fine, what do you want?" 

Even though his friend is with the presidential assistant doesn't make them close. At some point he remembers greeting him, a polite smile with a slight wave of his hand. 

"I'm fucking nervous, what do you expect?." he said, smiling. "It's my anniversary with my beautiful lover, I want everything to be nice." 

"I hope so, congratulations." Delete some words, add some more." Enjoy your evening." 

"I hope you do the same." 

He denies, noting that death confesses his plans to his assistant.

Interestingly enough, he notes how suspicious Vladimir Vladimirovich can be. 

"I guess you know the truth." He lifts his pen, playing with it. "Vladimir has invited me to novo ogaryovo." 

"I know." His fingers spread, bringing his right hand to his own temples. "I was there." 

He nods, looking at his fish, so beautiful with their own happiness. 

"You know everything?."

"Every word." He laughs with a sigh. "You must have no problems, he has no intention of playing with you." 

The wind seeps through the open window, through the slits to fill the room with a chilling cold. 

"I don't know." he said, writing his name on a soft sheet of paper on his desk. "I didn't think to talk to you about this." 

They both laugh, looking at each other with mockery. If you were told you'd be laughing with the person you hate who's also your friend's lover, you could take the liberty of laughing out loud. 

"I thought you know, just look at your face." He started, pointing at the minister. "I thought you'd take advantage."

He grimaces, looking at him, how strange that sounds. He didn't consider himself a profiteer, let alone someone who wants everything for something. 

"I loved him," he said, looking at the ceiling. "So much so that I could do everything for him, I didn't care." 

"Do you still love him?."

He thinks, noticing that he doesn't know the answer either. How does he feel about Vladimir Vladimirovich? Is it love? Is it a distant affection he once felt? He chooses to shrug his shoulders without looking away from the ceiling. 

"I think you should know about grigory." He blinks, uncomfortable.

"I'm willing to listen," he says, banging the heel of his shoe against the floor. "Talk before I regret it." 

He smiles, looking at the presidential aide. He loosens the knot in his tie, getting ready. 

"maybe vladimir vladimirovich already said about him." he smiled, crossing his legs. "he was a good person, he had his faults clearly but he was cute."

He continues, watching as the man raises his hand, making circles to encourage him to continue.

" I felt safe with him and I will always be indebted to his heart. " he says, his fingers drumming on the desk. " I was happy all the time, I lacked nothing and he took care of me like no one else has. " 

A sense of loss resonates with him, as he writes a short paragraph on his computer. That could be used at some point. 

_**And how can I atone for all this? You can't really, I'm doomed but, some brave gentleman tried to bring me out of the dead. Such was the misfortune that the devil himself ascended to the heavens and claimed his prisoner in front of the brave knight.** _

"and of vladimir?." 

Think, looking at his computer. 

_**the slave is afraid of the damage the devil can do so he goes down with his master, watching as the man with angels behind him looks at him in distress.** _

"I don't know what I feel now." He said, looking at him for a moment. "For vladimir vladimirovich I feel nothing sometimes but it's different now." 

"Why so much formality?" he asks, standing up. "You should believe in him." 

"Because it's my only way to keep him away from my heart, I think." The last thing he says is whispering, looking at the walking man. "What if he hurts me again?" 

Insecurity sets in, talking in his ear that all this is a horrible manipulation for the president's pleasures. 

"I'm afraid this is a lie." 

Look at Vladislav's face, expressing how he feels about the man. 

"Dima." For the first time the nickname appears. "He really wants to be with you."

"I need time to know that." 

Another idea comes up, writing. Take advantage when the assistant feeds the fish. 

_**Oh my God, I ask you to be merciful to this poor soul who's surrendered to the wrong feet. I don't want to suffer anymore with this torment they call love, so beautiful for the first timers but so painful really. I demand you, I cry out in your name for help for my ills that are locked up in my heart like nasty spikes that damage the poor organ that has suffered emotionally.** _

"Understand how it is." Walk to the door." It's your choice and I just want you to know." 

Wait for a pause, the assistant opens the door with a melancholy smile.

"He really needs you, believe it or not." 

The door closes, ending the conversation.

His fingers are held on the keyboard, his mind is blank with no ideas to put on the sheets. 

He wonders, imagining scenarios of his possible life if he had made the right choices. The scenario of him educating future generations of law, being honored, being respected.

Could that have met his expectations? Perhaps he was only at one point that teaching was something that filled him fully.

Educate, think about imagining a young Vladimir Vladimirovich sitting at his desk while he looks with his icy eyes or at some point they were warm? 

His head shakes in denial, he shouldn't think about him but he must, it's the end of his road with death. 

"Why are you doing this?" he wonders, speaking in his loneliness. "You're not in your best years to think about love problems." 

Look at his sides, boredom creeping in. He signs some papers, constantly thinking about the invitation. 

Should he go, risk something more dangerous?. How does he know nothing will happen?. 

Questions hit his temples, insecurity in every word, in every sentence affirming his fears. He must protect his heart, keep it from people who want to take it to do their personal atrocities with their source of life. 

He must decide, look ahead and raise his head as he gives himself to the destiny he has imposed.

For better or worse, his destiny is linked to death because without it life cannot exist. 

Analyze this sentence, his body gets up and walks out without reason. 

He greets Ivan, his kindly secretary who, strangely enough, covers his hand on the side of his neck. This is strange although he allows it to happen, it prevents the images from reaching his mind earlier than they should. 

He doesn't want to think anything wrong with ivan. 

"enjoy with the president." 

Why does everyone know? Does the entire Kremlin know about your relationship with Vladimir Vladimirovich? 

"How do you know that?" he asks, turning around. 

"Let's say the pen the president smashed." He begins with a smile. "It was Mr. Dvorkovich's and not mine." 

He's never felt such a great deception, for so long. The feeling of hitting the man who must surely be kissing his lover comes through. 

"Why?" 

"They're a nice couple," he said, without taking her hand off. "And they look happy together, that's why."

He starts walking, thinking about ivan's words. 

"Are they a nice couple?" he asks himself, looking for an answer when a mirror reflects his body. The image of the president next to him appears, with his arrogant, haughty fool. 

"you look good today." 

Apparently, the image was actually the president. 

"I like your pants." he said, holding his hand up the minister's ass. "They look pretty good on you."

The explorer hand touches his ass, pressing and pinching his buttock. 

"Thank you." He says, turning around. "You shouldn't do that, though." 

"What?" he asks, his nose touching the opposite cheek.

"Touching me like this."

Although he feels a small amount of happiness, the discomfort of someone staring at them when they're in this passionate way touching him makes him sick. 

"Why?" His hand rises to his chest, caressing him. "There's nothing wrong with that." 

"Yes, there is." He said, His hands are touching the opposite." This is all wrong.

Look at the couple they make, Ivan said they were cute together. He's looking for that beauty mentioned above, looking at the president's hands, his own hands being intertwined with the man's. 

"Look at us." His hands are moving to the mirror. "What's wrong with us?" 

The cold glass freezes his hands for a moment. Vladimir's body touches his back, attached to him. He can watch in amazement the president's look, so different, full of feelings he can't decipher in time. 

His hands separate to be turned over, those dilated eyes invade his mind. His lips cross. The wall along with the mirror touches his back as they gently brush their tongues, provoking each other with their warm bodies. 

"It's all bad," he replies, looking at his lips.

"And why do you want to kiss me?"

He smiles, his fingers touching the president's mouth noticing how hot they were, he must have drunk a hot drink before he met.

"I want to atone for that evil that is there." 

His lips touch, violently, while his hands run over the opposite body. They need their satisfaction, to free themselves from the evils that follow their soul in order to give way to the light that tries to enter the tainted life of both men. Vladimir touches his neck, kissing it while his hands touch his bottom and vice versa. 

He sighs, needing a break that the president does not consider prudent.

"vladimir vladimirovich." 

He names it, his high-pitched voice looking down the hall as men in suits walk by. 

"Stop, there are people." He said, his chin resting on the opposite shoulder. "Don't go on." 

"I don't want to." 

His eyebrows try to form into one as the president's right hand touches his member. The few sexual encounters he has had make his body crave desire.

He feels his face reddening as the group of people pass by, looking sideways in his direction as they talk quietly.

People's steps are slow. 

"It makes me uncomfortable." he said, hiding his face. "They're looking at us."

He suppresses a groan when he presses his hard limb. 

"So where do you want?." He moves his hand up and down, licking the minister's neck. "In mine or yours?." 

The shame builds up, in a big vessel that feels like it's about to explode.

"Don't say like that." He babbles, whispering. "They can hear." 

"In the bathroom of my office no one will." he hints, his hand touching the waist.

How could I have sex in a bathroom, that was unacceptable. When people leave, he runs away from the president, looking at him in offense. 

"Vladimir Vladimirovich will not do that, not even in a bathroom." His voice charged with desire makes betrayal. "It's indecent and I'm not a prostitute for that." 

"Don't be like that." he said, his breath shaking his chest.

"Remember we're having a meeting." 

he smiles, kissing the man's cheek as his feet desperately move somewhere.

How could he look into the faces of the people who crossed over and saw him in his passion for the president, he can't find an answer, his heart pounding on his ribcage fearing to see a future fracture because of it. The birds pass by the windows, with their soft whistle announcing their mating date. 

He was crazy, surely his sanity was gone and so he was doing the things his mind could not describe. In a few moments he would see Vladimir Vladimirovich in front of him in his mahogany seat. 

It felt like the first time, when he started his career and looked at the young president sitting down, touching the desk so softly; his fingers tracing the cracks that existed. 

He remembers that his legs weakened at the sight of him, the feeling of kneeling was strong at that moment. 

But, it was not the occasion. He had to be focused on his work, the nation depends on him. 

He walks around, walking under the scrutiny of the officials who murmur behind his back.

I didn't know the Kremlin could be so gossipy. As Vladislav said?, a nest of harpies.

I look at the paintings, noticing the passion in every stroke, the meticulousness when the brush is spread out on the canvas knowing that one mistake would ruin the work of weeks.

He climbs the stairs, noting suspiciously the direction in which his feet, absorbed by his own thought, continue on their independent path to the office of death. 

He knocks, watching the secretary as she presses something under her desk and sets out. Walking outside with his folders in hand. 

He is attended by the president, with a smile. 

"I thought I'd spend more time."

He walks in, looking at two cups with blue curved old-age decorations resting on the desk. The smoke rises in the heat of the liquid. 

"Sit down," he said, sitting in his own chair. "Drink a little." 

He accepts, noticing the sweet, strong aroma that perfumes his nostrils and pleasantly hits his taste.

"It smells good." He brings the cup to his lips, drinking. "And it tastes good, I like it."

"I would like to talk about China." 

They spend time talking about China, about the pushy Asian prime minister who seems unwilling to lower his instincts to his Russian counterpart. 

They go on about the economy, looking at their strengths to be ideas. Having ties to China would take the U.S. on a high alert. 

Then something abrupt happens. 

His breathing quickens, his blood pumps as if running a marathon ten times seems to be enough; the heat in his body expands around every corner. He breathes fast, looking at the president in fear as he seems to possess the same effects. 

"What's going on?" he asks, standing up. 

His legs tremble, his limb responds and he does not know the reason. 

"I'm going to kill Slava."

He approaches the president, images of vladislav pouring liquid into his cups become present.

"We'll do it." He says, taking the man's sack. "But kiss me."

Look how vladimir stands up, kissing his lips as they touch his body. 

The heat is centered behind his limb, at the point that embarrasses his body and is forbidden to name. 

"I need to take you, now." 

He nods, his feet move in reverse to feel the handle against his back. The hand opens the door, pushing him to the place where there is a sink. 

"Take me!" he replies, ignoring how upset he sounds. "Do it now!" 

They quickly shed their clothes, their hands resting on the edge of the sink.

"You said that having sex in a bathroom is indecent." he remembered, kissing the naked shoulders. 

"Forget I said that!" Desperate, he looks at his reflection, noticing the funny look. "Please!"

Its walls open to receive the member, enjoying and feeling full. Their bodies move, arms and legs in position for better satisfaction. He turns his face, asking for the opposite lips against his own that the president cannot deny. 

They surrender in passion, whatever the liquid influences their carnal desire being extreme, the longing to reach their orgasm is powerful. He lifts his hip to receive the onslaught, moving with whatever speed he needs. 

His lips separate, the burning continues for a few minutes when shame appears. 

"What's going on?" Vladimir asks anxiously as he kisses the opposite back. 

He doesn't want to talk, his face is embarrassed. He looks like a child when he decides to break the silence.

"I-I didn't know I could." He looks at the president's face in the mirror." There's liquid down there."

The man's laughter is rich, it increases his shame and he looks ridiculous. The morbid sound of his limb hitting his insides throws him off balance. 

"My pretty boy." His lips suck up the skin, licking the place. "You should know that this produces its own fluids." 

He gasps when vladimir rushes at him, no matter how short of breath he is, and gives him no time to catch his breath. His legs shake involuntarily when the tip touches his prostate, hitting it repeatedly. 

He is so vocal, he screams loudly and unabashedly when he feels pleasure and anxiety. 

"Mr. President, are you all right?" 

They remain silent, he brings his own hand to his mouth so that he can silence the moans that are impossible to suppress. 

He knew this was a bad idea. 

"What can I do for you?" 

Lavrov seems to walk through the office, his steps stop at the door.

Fear runs through his veins when he knows the door lock is open. 

"Have you seen the Prime Minister?"

He closes his eyes, the liquid inside him coming through. He bites his hand, trying to suppress his moaning when vladimir seems not to be interested in the person behind the door. 

"No, now get out." vladimir's voice is different, full of desire that doesn't go unnoticed.

"Then where will he be?." 

He gathers his eyes when he notices the evil in Lavrov's voice. The man's intentions towards him were never good, a hatred was evident. 

"Maybe he's with that nice doctor." he said, knocking on the door. "I heard they're going out."

"They are not!." 

Vladimir strikes his body, lunges in as if the little hole was his outlet. 

His hand hurts, a wound starts to form from preventing him from making a sound. 

"Dima told me he went on a trip." 

"Dima?."

The door handle starts moving, he opens his eyes while his own hand stops the door from opening. 

"Why don't you let him open?." he whispers in his ear, a bit annoyed. "So he can see you're with me." 

He refuses outright, his hand that was free is still steady on the door. His body feels heavy, tired but eager to finish.

"I'm sorry, sir, although I'll look for the Prime Minister." He says, steps away. "I'll inform him of your attendance at the meeting." 

He waits, holding out his hand when the door closes and the steps disappear. 

"Look how cute you are." He said, his hand to the white legs. "Your legs are so soft." 

He struggles to speak, stutters and babbles every word.

He screams against the cold porcelain in the sink.

"Wh-why oh! You wanted me to." He lets out a moan, his legs fall for a moment to get back into position. "To be seen."

He feels the void and how its walls close when the limb comes out. He looks embarrassed when the president sits on the toilet, hitting his naked legs with his open white shirt. 

"Come my little tsar." he encourages, extending his hand towards him.

He has the decision knocking right now, whether or not to take his hand changes everything. 

He walks up to him, taking his hand as he sits astride his. Touching his neck and shoulder so he doesn't lose his balance. 

"I want them to see us." He said, kissing the left nipple. "You're so cute at orgasm." 

"I'm not cute, stop saying that." He asks, moving his hips.

The warm hands touch her cold skin, pinching the skin. 

"Get up." 

Take the order, a little confused when vladimir kneels. 

"Wh-what are you doing?."

He doesn't have time to continue when he's lifted into the air to almost touch the ceiling. His legs rest on the president's shoulders and the tip of his tongue touches his limb. 

"I need to please my little tsar." He kisses the base, gawking. "I've neglected it, I suggest you don't shout too much."

His cheeks turn red when the nickname appears. His lips close against his limb, in a sway that makes him scream. This is dangerous, he feels he's going to fall. 

"Please." He takes one hand to the ceiling, closing his eyes." Put me down! Oh! Vladimir!"

He breathes fast, his legs are shaking and he feels his balance going out. 

"I will never let you fall." 

His body relaxes, presses his lips in pleasure while his hips move. Vladimir moves his hands to his ass, separating his buttocks. 

"I need to taste your scent," he said, inserting a finger inside him.

He closes his legs by hunching his back, the speed increases and he feels close.

The finger inside it moves in circles, probing inside it. 

Whistle, preventing the screams from disappearing. His orgasm forms powerfully, licking his member intensifies until the electric current and spikes of pleasure make his body quiver. 

He feel the liquid spurt out, filling the president's mouth. His insides shrink, prickly. 

"Don't swallow it!" he cries out, alarmed. 

His heart turns when Vladimir looks at him, his tongue licking his lips with a smile. 

"You taste delicious." 

His shoulders turn red along with his face. The corners of his lips tremble and his legs feel heavy 

Vladimir plants feathery kisses on his thigh, licking without stopping the contact that forms between them. He had not noticed the power of the man's gaze, the heat that emanates from it burns him up inside and moves him without knowing it. 

He leaps up against the wall as the teeth close on his left thigh, biting relatively hard but hard enough to leave a mark. 

"I'm embarrassed." He said, His legs are moving." I'm not delicious or cute, stop that." 

He complains when the man makes another mark, this time on the right thigh. 

"You are, you're fucking cute and fuckable." 

Vladimir puts him down, when his feet touch the ground he almost collapses, the orgasm left him so weak. 

"And I can never be happy with taking you once." 

He clings to the president's strong back as he pounces, kissing. 

Their souls seem to be united, they bump their breasts as they try to be as close as possible, touching every corner of the opposite body to learn it by heart. 

He hisses when his right leg gets so high that it touches his own chest. 

"what do you want?." vladimir's hoarse voice increases his desire." ask me, you'll get everything you want." 

The tip enters her sensitive body, her nipples bristle strongly.

"I want you to me." His high-pitched voice breaks. "Make me feel loved." 

Vladimir's face moves to his ear, biting his lobe as he lashes out violently. 

"As you wish my little tsar." he said, touching his semi-flaccid limb.

The president's voice torments him, his breath beating against his ear as he is rammed hard leads to an over-stimulation he cannot bear. 

"Do you like my voice?" he asks, his hand reaching up to his nipples. "You sure do love it, just look at the way you get when I talk."

He closes his eyes with pleasure listening to the voice of Vladimir take him to the edge again.

"You're so tight." 

He shudders when the tongue touches his ear, licking the contours. 

"Deliciously tight." he said, pressing the leg he holds. "Your body is perfect for my penis." 

His hands wrinkle his shirt, lowering his hands and then raising them up under the thin clothing. Touching the president's sweaty skin, scratching his back when his prostate is stimulated again, causing secretions that he feels come down along with the pre-seminal vladimir fluids. 

He buries them more strongly when he feels safe, his raised leg making vladimir possible to bury himself deeper, hitting without mercy. He needs to breathe but can only keep his mouth open to generate the most obscene sounds he has ever heard. 

"You're like a little kitten." His voice whispers, pressing his right hand on the right nipple. "Lovely oh!"

He squeals, moving his waist to get more friction. It feels so good, his long eyelashes tremble, his breath is short and he feels shaky. 

His nails tear at the president's skin, clinging tighter as his mouth drools and curses. 

"Tell me how uneducated you are," he jokes, grimacing.

"Damn it!" he screams, getting his voice back. "I need a break!"

Wildly, that would describe what goes on in that fancy bathroom.

"Fuck you." 

It screams, he feel silenced by the president's lips when the movements become so strong that the sound of skin against it is powerful, overwhelming and morbid. 

They burn out, a few more pushes and you'll feel it in the sky itself. 

His semen stains his body and the vladimir's, exhales strongly when the president's liquid drains into him and comes out of him, falling down his legs and ass. 

They remain like this, listening to the contrary breath when his leg is lowered. Feel the throbbing limb come out. 

"Turn around."

He accepts, looking at the wall.

"Open your ass." he said, his voice so close.

His hands go down, opening his buttocks wide. He's embarrassed when the semen comes down his legs faster. 

He gasps as his tongue runs down his leg to his hole. Just like he did before in the hut. 

"Stop." he asks, his voice a thread." don't do that. 

He opens his eyes wide when he takes a big lick, his tears accumulate from desire. 

"Please!" he hisses, losing how many times he said that word. "I need to rest!"

He sighs when he feels nothing else, his tongue disappears. 

"My boy." Vladimir turns it over, kissing it in front of him. "You've taken it so well." 

"I'm exhausted." 

They dress in their pants, vladimir forces his body to sit on the toilet so he can dress it, he didn't want to admit he needed help. 

"I need another shirt." 

The president takes off his wrinkled, wet shirt. When he turns around he is embarrassed to see the scratch marks all over his back. 

"i'm sorry." he said, standing up.

When they open the door he looks curiously at how a small drawer is opened to reveal light and dark colored shirts. 

"Don't apologize, it's appropriate to know the pain you must suffer." 

He puts his head down when the burning he feels behind him is powerful, he haven't had so many wild relationships. 

"you are bleeding."

And he haven't had such a violent reaction to pleasure either. 

Vladimir touches his own back, his face turns red as so often. 

"I like that you're back."

He smiles, the sides of his eyes are wrinkled. He still can't decide if he wants to come back, the fear is still there. 

"I don't know." he says, fixing his shirt. "It's still missing."

"We'll talk later." He tied a knot with his tie, reaching out to him. "When we have time, I hope you'll feel comfortable." 

He nods, looking at himself. The eyes are cold again, so dark and cruel. 

"I'll go see what Lavrov needs." He said, kissing the president's cheek. "See you vladimir vladimirovich." 

A little burning is felt in his waist, his legs have little tremors, imperceptible. He walks to the door, looking at the clock on the wall. 

"Why don't you drop the formalities?" 

He opens the door, watching as the secretary looks at him with a smile. 

"Because we're at work," he says, closing the door.

He was looking at his hands for a while, maybe the vladislav's neck was missing to strangle. 

"Dima, it's time." Ivan comes over, almost running to carry him through the corridors. "Everyone's waiting." 

"For what?"

The door opens, Vladimir Vladimirovich is smiling discreetly, the ministers look at him with a murderous look. 

"Mr. Medvedev, take a seat."

He sits next to Vladimir, feeling the tension. 

The meeting begins, the nation's problems are urgent. 

He's not present mentally. It's amazing how he can still feel the punctures in his body, feel the smell of sex. 

He is afraid that they will know what has happened before. 

A note comes to his hands, noting the old situation that made him remember. 

_"Does it hurt?"_

He smiles, looking at the officials. 

_"It burns, but I'm fine."_

He returns it, biting the pen.

He goes back to his memories, when the notes were what started it all. 

_"Can you explain why you're formal?"_

They usually try to use the shortest sentences, not to cause suspicion of their relationships in such important matters. 

_"What if this is a game?"_

Wait, tapping on the wood with his fingers while he reads the new reforms. 

_"I couldn't play with you."_

Look at Lavrov, he's surprised when Vladislav's kick appears, this time there's no malice. The assistant's look is one of warning, alerting him. 

What about Lavrov? He doesn't remember doing anything against the old man. He didn't take much notice, writing. 

_"Once you did it."_

Think about his blog, he should keep working on it. His feet touch the ground along with the sound of the clock, something slow, monotonous. 

_"and I don't want to do it anymore."_

It's his turn to speak, officials look at him seriously, some with mockery, others simply with pity. 

His mind is a blank.

"dmitry anatolievich." Lavrov begins, his fingers intertwined." What do you think?."

He babbles for a moment and then lowers his head. 

"I didn't hear the question." 

"That's why we're like this!" He stands up in excitement, pointing at him. "You do nothing! You're always in your world!"

What did he do to unleash the man's fury? He didn't do anything.

"It was a few minutes!" He defends himself, his accusing finger is raised. "What's wrong with you!"

"The problem is that you are deficient! You do nothing!" he said, banging on the table. "A horrible minister!" 

He is offended, looking at the officials who seem to be pleased, vladislav looks at him, pointing at him to take silence. 

"Silence." 

He is silent, looking at Lavrov who seems to have a triumphant smile on his face. He could hit him right now if it wasn't the table that separated them at that moment. 

"We're making trouble, the country is fine." vladimir writes, looking at the officials. "If they're going to fight, let it be outside, now, silence."

He hadn't started, he had just stopped listening and unleashed the old man's anger. 

He keeps looking at the sheet, annoyed. He looks out the window as the clouds cover the sky to shut it down, leave it in a melancholy 

When it's time to reiterate, he takes his hands in dismissal and leaves the place. Walking to his office as he sits, jumping when the pain hits his body. It's a miracle he didn't feel it when he was in that meeting.

He strokes his hip, relieving some of the pain he feels.

It's time to work. 

He's having a good time writing, signing documents, reviewing laws, modifying speeches and watching the international news. 

His body feels tense as he watches the Iranian news, the war ravages that country so strongly. The African problems, the pollution of the Asian and American giant. 

It was a sad scenario for the world. 

He feels he must write, it is a good time to do so now that he is finished and the paperwork stops for a minute.

Something erotic came into his mind. 

_**"I remember when you were next to me, with your icy look that pierced my bones and at the same time lit my body until I felt that I was on fire. Our lips didn't have much friction, rarely a kiss escaped bravely to kiss us and succumb.** _

_**When you took me I felt horrible, unfaithful and disgusting but you managed to take me to the best places I had the privilege of knowing at your side. Our bodies moved slowly, enjoying our own symphony that we provoked into pleasure."** _

Look disgustedly, noting how horrible it sounds. 

It's sad to think he spent nearly half an hour writing what he just wrote. 

He's surprised when the door opens, Ivan holds a bouquet of flowers and a letter. 

"For you." he said, leaving the bouquet on the desk. "Enjoy." 

It's a beautiful bouquet, of white lilies standing out elegantly and pink dahlias that soften and yellow and red orchids that adorn the bouquet beautifully.

He smiles when the leaf has the letter of vladimir, this time he does not throw it away, he does not face the man who has written it. 

**_"my living wish, my dear man with the face of a child. I'm making a choice in doing this but I'm taking the risk fully._ **

**_I don't want to hurt you, I would be a horrible person if I dare to raise my hand against someone who only makes me smile._ **

**_I know what I have done in the past, how many times I caused your suffering and imagining your face crying on my behalf makes me feel self hate because I can't do anything but regret the past._ **

**_I want you to stay with me as you did before, to say when you love me so that I can kiss you and feel you so close that I will need so many guards to separate myself from you._ **

**_How I wish you could see us, that you could know of your beauty when you reach orgasm and your eyelashes tremble with desire. I want everyone to see the triumph of my work, to know that only I can make you delirious."_ **

His face contorts into a smile, excited. 

**_"Every flower that the bouquet possesses, every petal that lies there means what I want with you._ **

**_The white lilies are your purity, the most beautiful way to describe you really. Your eyes as innocent and your heart as delicate as porcelain._ **

**_The yellow orchids are your eroticism, what you provoke in me that makes me want to stamp your body against the wall at every moment and sink into you until I lose my mind. Delicious in every way, simply perfect. The red ones are the passion, I'm addicted to your body and god, I pray to heaven to be able to enjoy you until my last days"._ **

He scowls, without taking the smile off his lips. 

**_"and pink dahlias, that represents my goal with your heart. I want to make you happy, I give you my commitment with these flowers to make your life happy in my best aspects. I am not nice and I know it but I just want your smile to be only mine, to kiss only my lips._ **

**_I need you, being by your side inspires my best moments and this letter shows it just by thinking of you._ **

**_I hope to meet you and see you, kiss you._ **

**_Vladimir Vladimirovich."_ **

He looks at the bouquet without being able to speak, his heart beats incessantly on his chest. He lifts them up, leaving them in an empty vase. 

He loves the detail as he watches the night begin to appear, the time usually advances quickly when he does nothing, just looks at the wall, thinking of so many scenarios that make his mind ache.

The man changed, really the cold heart became warm. 

It is Vladimir Vladimirovich he must remember, the man who can change his personality, the one who can be a kind person but inside be so rotten. 

His body rises, ready to leave the palace to walk to the president's residence. 

The cold hits his skin, reddening his nose and cheeks to make a strange burning. 

He walks, shuffling his feet as his phone plays the harmonious melody of Led Zeppelin.

He answers, listening to sveta's voice. 

_"sveta the make-up!"_

He manages to hear Arkady's voice in the background, they seem to be having quite a good time.

_"Dima, how are you?"_

_"I'm fine, I'm going to the presidential residence."_

The feeling of disappointment in your wife can be felt, so deep. 

_"Are you really going?"_

_"I swear I'll come back, I won't stay long."_

This time it's true, he doesn't give false promises. 

_"I hope I don't see dima bites."_

_"ahm.."_

_"Dima for God's sake!"_

His wife's words are full of poison, indignation and disappointment. he feels he has failed she. 

_"forgiveness was not my fault."_

_"It's your ass, dima! I can't believe you gave yourself up again!"_

_"Slava gave us something!"_

Listen funny how svetlana scolds arkady, you can hear slava's name in the distance. 

Poor gray cardinal when he comes back. 

_"His name is yohimba, it was an aphrodisiac."_

_"It makes sense."_

They take a silence, a spasm crosses their body and their hand becomes a fist ready to defend itself when they feel a hand against their waist. 

He looked annoyed at the president's funny smile. 

_"I'll see you later, please help Arkady."_

He hangs up, walking along with the president who still hasn't taken his hand off. 

He feels like the first lady, full of luxurious dresses with a smooth walk compared to the president's heavy blows against the stone. His body is attached to the contrary, feeling the heat that emanates from her proximity, pleasant but uncomfortable. 

The looks, how he hated those looks. Hate, completely injected into his being to be mortal, the eyes of different colors focus on the hand that rests on his waist. 

They stop when the limousine faces them. 

His delicate hands are raised, the engagement ring standing out in his hands, like a stain of infidelity on his part. 

Vladimir's hands touch hers, both open the door.

He steps back, lowering his head, waiting for the president to enter. 

"my little tsar." he said, lifting his chin. "you must not lower your head to me." 

He is surprised when the lips touch his body, quickly to part as if they had never joined. 

"there are people."

"that's much better." 

The scream that comes from his lips scares away the birds that at some point landed on the ground, his body is attached to the president's, his tongue enters his with presence, running all over the place without letting him react; he hears the people around him gasp in awe, speak or scream. His hands are drawn to the president's shoulders while the opposite hands go down to his backside, both hands touching his buttocks. 

His teeth bite into the opposite flesh, stretching the fleshy lower lip gently, licking, sucking. 

His feet rise for a moment, separating from the president. 

"I want to take you right here."

"not in public." he said, trying to get into the vehicle. "it embarrasses me."

He was stopped by the man, his face funny, with his white teeth reflecting his own face. 

"You shouldn't be ashamed." He moves his hands, touching his neck. "No one will talk at all."

The road is slow, his body seeks the president's warmth, being close to him. Look at the window, Vladimir's big hand touching his leg. 

"I remind you that we are going to talk."

"I know." He said, his hand goes up his leg, touching his chest. "That's what we're here for."

The hand is like a burn, persistent, making it irresistibly uncomfortable. 

"What happens?."

What should he say?.

Tell the truth about your insecurities and fears that haunt your mind that you're reluctant to believe a significant change in the man who seems sweet and gentle in those moments. 

How can you say that your heart cannot resist more lies for the man?.

The thought that this is just a vile manipulation makes him sick and to watch as nothing seems to change makes him feel even more nauseous. 

"Nothing, I'm just exhausted." His hand goes up, down the window. "That's all."

"Something's bothering you." He breathes in the smell of the sack, kissing his cheek. "If it's because they saw us, no one will say anything." 

Think, the potholes make his body jump. He opens the door when the car stops, leaving quickly while following the president on a slow but persistent road. When they enter, look how everything has changed, the details are softer, not as imposing as they once were; it is more spacious, has the seats closer to cream color that makes something nice to your eyes; the carpets, which at one time were dark, change their color for something softer. 

Take a seat, remembering that the hours of this stay are numbered and that returning to his wife's house is a must.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asks, his hands open the window. "A wine perhaps?"

"Thank you, a wine is fine."

He accepts the drink, watching the president cross his legs as he sits next to him. He removes his buttons, breathing more relaxed. 

"There's something I want to say." He begins, taking a small sip.

Look at the man's reactions, his relaxed back and sloping shoulders make the confidence grow. 

"sveta knows everything." 

"Why?." The glass dances between her fingers, the red liquid stains the transparency. "I don't understand."

Look at the floor, thinking about how worried she must be, maybe waiting for her return with the phone in hand to call. 

"She knows every part." he starts, takes another sip, the sweetness runs down her throat."

"You shouldn't have said everything." vladimir puts the glass down, looking at the man. "It's not right."

"She's my wife and my friend." Hhe defends herself, his glass goes up." I say what I want."

That sounded violent, defiant. He apologizes, lowering his head gently. 

"I can't force you to shut up."

Was it true what he hears? The resignation that comes from his lips surprises him greatly. The glass falls from his hands, he places it on the table, listening to the small sound of the glass hitting his own material. 

"Where's the trick?" His body rises to get within millimetres of the other body. "What's the small print?"

What can he say?, previous experiences make his distrust bubble up, suspicious of the words the man utters of the most believable and palpable lies that had the world believing in the veracity of the puritanical actions of the kind president. 

"There is none." His hand presses hard on the glass. "The small print is gone." 

He looks in fascination at Vladimir's eyes, as his pupils dilate and discomfort appears but are so suppressed that the next second the eyes give the inexpressive look that everyone remembers. 

"it is not something of you vladimir vladimirovich."

His hands touch the man's cheek, noticing how soft he still is.

"you're not a fair man." he finished. 

"the KGB is not fair." 

The KGB reappears, the riddles and the pressure that condemned the one who entered are presented in small quantities. 

"What did you do there, really?" he said, his hands go down, touching the buttons. "You never did anything routine to be like that."

"It's not something you want to know." He took a sip, his gaze remained on the front.

He never asked what he did as a spy, he really wasn't confident enough to ask such a question. He read the interviews normally from his past, he was not sure of the veracity of that, of the monotony that the president did now in looking for recruits. 

"I want to know."

"I killed." he said, his hands lowered the glass to look at the man. "I did illegal things for the good of the nation is all."

He remained silent, noticing how some wine had soiled the president's fingers.

"It was not your good." 

His fingers interlocked, he had lowered his hand to the man's hands to join them, sharing their warmth. 

"never mind the past, whether it was good or not." his voice is muffled, almost whispering.

"that will haunt you vladimir vladimirovich." 

He had to go back, remember. 

"Leave the formality dima." His arm rises, encircling the opposite back to touch his side. "It is not necessary, you must not occupy it." 

"I don't want to get attached." His eyes rise serenely. "What happens if you walk away?"

Fear is coming out of his mouth, saying what he's so terrified of. If he lets the man go his way again, making his heart fall in love and then stepping on it, he couldn't continue his normal life. 

"I won't walk away from you when I want you to be with me." 

So it was decided. 

He stands up, getting out of the man's grip causing his bewilderment.

"If you really want this to work." his eyes are on the sitting man." I'm asking you, if you're going to play with me, please let me go."

His arms fall down, surrendered. Bubbles start to burst in her own fear, coming out of his pores in a little layer of sweat that covers his forehead. 

Vladimir's body rises, walking slowly but surely. His eyes have a different glow, his pupils expand imperceptibly. 

Vladimir's hand touches his waist, gently pressing his, holding her body close to his. Notice how his face relaxes. 

"No more games." Lips touch his forehead, sweetheart. "You'll only be by my side, little tsar."

A mischievous blush appears but stops him, thinking of some horrible thing; the image of Lavrov in something compromising made him frown. 

"Vladimir Vladimirovich you need not lie." 

A sigh crosses his lips when his fingers touch the president's strong chest.

"and if this is true." he continued, his fingers touching the button. "i want to make this work."

His chin is raised, the cold hands of vladimir press, forcing him to look into the dilated eyes that become stronger.

The heat emanating from their bodies, so suffocating that it makes their breathing quicker, is enough to cause a shock to their heart.

"Dmitry Anatolievich, what I'm telling you is not some lie." His hands are clinging to the flesh, pressing. "I'll make this work."

"Please don't hurt me." he pleaded, his arms encircling the man's body. "I couldn't see that this is a lie."

The man's hands hesitate, as if he were afraid to touch him at that moment. 

"Volodya?."

Then the hands cling tightly, pressing his body to him. The violence makes him back up, hitting the wall for support. 

His hands cling to the white shirt, the itchy tears appear in his own excitement, the sobbing begins and his lip trembles.

"Don't cry my little tsar." he said, kissing the left cheek beside him. "This is no time to do it."

"I'm sorry." His sobs prevent him from speaking properly.

He looked at the ceiling, preventing the tears from flowing. He must still go back to his wife and could misinterpret the emotions he now feels. 

"don't apologize." 

They stay that way, his emotions on an edge that he tries to contain as best he can. 

"I have to go back, sveta is waiting for me." he said, coming out of the embrace, slipping away. "and dorofei does too."

"Stay here, sleep with me." 

He denies, lying to his wife is the worst and he doesn't want to see her outside the residence screaming or doing anything dangerous. 

She's capable of anything for his best friend. 

"I can't, I told you." he repeated, taking his phone.

"At least my driver will take you." He said, walking out the door. "Come on."

They left, the vehicle camouflaged in the dark, dark and imposing.

The moonbeams fail to show the guards waiting for their entrance. 

"It's your presidential vehicle." He looked back, his hands hesitating to open the door. "You shouldn't..."

"Nonsense, go on." he breathed, kissing her cheek. "Nothing will happen, go to your wife."

He doesn't know why he gave her a short hug, it was strong enough to press against the president's chest. He opens the door, his hands complaining about the cold that made the skin on his arms rise up on a different surface. 

"I hope to see you tomorrow." 

He smiled, looking into his blue eyes one last time before heading home to his wife. 

When he arrived, he said goodbye to the driver, thanking him as he looked at his wife at the door, his arms folded and his eyes expectant.

"And well?"

A smile escapes, hugging his wife as they enter the main room, sitting down. 

"I really think he's changed." His voice sounds hopeful, excited. "Of course I have my precautions."

"And you believe it, really?" His voice is incredulous, ironic. "I didn't think you'd fall for it so quickly."

He hid his lips, raising his eyebrows in a grimace. 

"I gave his a chance." His fingers play with the ring, rotating the circumference. " He wants this to work."

"My boy." Her hands touch his back, caressing his in circles. "You really love him."

He nods, his wedding ring glows in the spotlight, reminding him that he had a promise to his wife. 

"Forgive my selfishness, sveta." He said, showing the ring on his finger. "I shouldn't deceive you like this."

"I care that you are happy dima." Lips cover his forehead, rising. "I don't want you to cry for him."

He follows his wife's example, recounting in detail what happened at Vladimir Vladimirovich's residence.

When they reach the bed their gazes cross, smiling as their hands intertwine. 

"He promises you won't suffer for him." His wife strokes the back of his neck, kissing his cheek. "I'll be happy if you're happy."

His eyelids fall, yawning as he turns around, turning his back. 

"Good night, Sveta."

Tomorrow would be another day. 

With the days things changed, the glances dimmed, the atmosphere changed to something relaxed and serene. Vladimir never pressed his body, the smiles he gave him and the invitations to his residence made his heart for the man burn, the embers burning brightly in his love. 

Today it was he who took the initiative, hugging the man from behind, provoking a slight discontent until he relaxed when he heard about the owner of those arms. 

"Are you ready? They're waiting for us." vladimir turned, kissing his forehead. "I hope you'll come with me."

"Where to?" 

His arms spread out, kissing the man's lips until he walked beside him, urgently crossing the corridors. 

"Home, I want you to sleep with me this time."

He hadn't slept with Vladimir, he usually came home to his wife late at night. 

"Really?"

"Yes, I want you to come." He said, opening the door. "Stay with me tonight."

That sounded tempting, he should admit. 

He nods, sitting in the seat next to the president, noticing that the officials have their most confident air, fear doesn't show on the surface, his eyes don't look tired anymore.

Even Vladislav was smiling. 

In the course of the meeting the notes passed, came and even smiled like they were in love. 

_"Will you go?"_

He read, writing happily, with the black pen that has never changed. 

_"Of course I'll go."_

His hands were not unnoticed either, the mischievous hands rubbing together for a few seconds to separate with complicit glances that made him cry out in his heart. 

_"I'll wait for you outside, it's our last hour."_

He nods, looking at the economic ideas that appear in front of him. 

Finally, when the meeting is over, their hands are shaken in an official closing, leaving quickly to return to their homes. 

"You're leaving without me."

Vladimir murmurs in his ear, walking beside him. 

"I thought you'd talk to Sergei." 

"We'll talk tomorrow." His hands touch the minister's shoulder. "It's not important."

His walk was swift with kisses and caresses, gasps and moans escaping his sinful lips. When the vehicle stops, they get out, their clothes wrinkled and their breaths stirred. 

"Do you want some wine?" vladimir opens the door, looking for the glasses. "It's late and it'll serve to relax you."

"All right, I'll go prepare the room."

He smiled as he looked at the confused eyes, as the cheekbone rises to shrink his right eye. 

He walked up the stairs, his breath shaking with nerves as he opened the door, taking off his tie to throw it somewhere in the corner. 

He opens the sheets as he removes the buttons, pressing with his thumb to pull out the button. 

Listen to the steps on the stairs, slow. His pants press when vladimir enters, with something different, maybe it's his eyes burning or his chest naked that causes his member to react. 

"What did you do? I see everything the same." He said, the glasses spread to his body, accepting it.

"There's me, that's what's different." He replied, sitting on the side of the bed. "Do you like that?."

His arms encircle the president's neck, bringing him closer to a kiss when he's close enough, his lips dancing until they demand the air that drains from his lungs quickly. 

When his lips part a thread of liquid binds them together, his flaming eyes convey the desire they feel for each other. 

"What will you do tomorrow, it's a day off." Funny question, taking a sip. "I thought we could be together."

"I want to be with you, all day." His hands take the glass, sitting next to him. "How do you say, lie down?"

He nods, the alcohol relaxing his system. He takes off his pants for comfort, his shoes fall to the ground and his socks fly near the place where his tie rests.

"is to rest." His body falls to the bed completely, touching the president's chest. "You should do it."

"Say you know I don't..."

He interrupted him, kissing vladimir's lips briefly, looking at him with a yawn that made a bag under his eyes. 

"Am I making you happy?"

His right leg rises to rest on the man's legs, hugging him.

"You're doing it." His chin rises, making lips pout. "You really do it."

"I'm glad to hear it." His hand caresses the back, gently.

The silence is comforting, makes his heart recover in bigger pieces this time. 

He raises his hand, touching behind the president's ear. 

He laughs at the man's moan followed by a purr, watching in amusement as his eyes are surprised. 

"I hope to hear from your lips," he said, hugging his chest to close his eyes. "Someday you'll say you love me."

His breathing relaxes, sleep comes, almost in his conscious moment he manages to feel the light go out. 

"I have, you just don't listen." The president kissed the back of her neck, smiling. "I love you, Dmitry Anatolievich."

That time he slept with his whole heart. 

In the morning he woke up, the rays of the strong sun hitting his eyes, disturbing his pleasant sleep. He noticed his loneliness when he tried to bring the body next to him closer to the void and the cold sheet. 

He opened his eyes, confused, noticing the note that lay on the bedside table along with the empty glass. 

He took it between his fingers, opening it. 

_**"my dima, my lovely man.** _

_**I want to say in advance, don't be afraid, I haven't left you. How should I say this, I don't really know how to express what I want to say, I'm not like you.** _

_**I just want you to know that my feelings to you are real and I promise to God that it is true, that I will be persecuted by the demons if I break my word and that I will be condemned to my lie.** _

_**I want you to stay with me as you did before, when in the long hours of the night you kept awake waiting for me to finish my work.** _

_**I must say that I love you, that I desire every part of your body with eagerness in every moment, every breath you take when you reach the maximum splendor of orgasm and you shout my name, that I want to live it every day because you make me live, you make me leave my bitterness in order to please your whims as a spoiled child.** _

_**I hope you follow me, at the end of the road that lies ahead for us because it is our destiny to be together.** _

_**Vladimir Vladimirovich."** _

He smiles, kissing the letter as he arranges his body in the soft bed, sighing with a smile that causes pain in his cheeks. 

It really was a new beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading the end of this, I hope you like it ಥ⌣ಥ

**Author's Note:**

> Um, I don't know if this is going anywhere but good.  
> <3


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